The Long Way Home
by yellowrose
Summary: Sam is lost in Mordor and must try to make it home alone. No Slash. *COMPLETE*
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimers: The characters and story of the Lord of the Rings belong to JRR Tolkien.  
  
This is my second attempt at fan fiction. I've had fun writing it and hopefully some of you will enjoy reading it! Thanks!  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The sky was dark with dust and ash swirling around his head. Sam could scarcely breathe and each gasp was like inhaling shards of glass. The heat and noxious fumes had seared his agonized lungs. He knew this was the end. He and Frodo were marooned on a small hillock, surrounded by molten rock. There was no escape. The very ground beneath their feet was trembling as if about to explode. He looked down at his fallen master, cradled in his arms. Frodo's meager reserves of strength had been sapped by his final battle for the Ring. Gollum had defeated Frodo, but with Gollum's victory had come the destruction of the Ring. With tearing eyes, Sam turned his head to take one yearning look at the sky, knowing it would be his last. He frowned, rubbed his eyes and tried to peer more closely through the plumes of dust and debris. It looked like something in the distance was flying towards them! Nazgul, perhaps? No, he didn't have that sense of fear that always accompanied the Black Riders. Suddenly, he remembered Bilbo's tale of how the great eagles had come to his and the dwarves rescue so many years ago. Could this be history repeating itself? He gently laid Frodo on the ground and struggled to his feet. He swayed with dizziness. He knew his time was running short. He could barely breathe and he was fighting to stay conscious. The ground was becoming more and more unstable.  
  
The three figures in the sky were coming closer and closer. Yes! Sam could have screamed with joy. The eagles had come! Without thinking, Sam turned and lifted Frodo in his arms and when the first eagle swooped down, Sam held Frodo's lifeless body as high as he could. The eagle deftly grabbed Frodo in his mighty talons and flew off to the west.  
  
Gandalf, riding on the back of the noble eagle king, Gwaihir, almost cried with relief as he saw the small figure on the desolate hill below bravely struggle to his feet and raise his companion to be rescued by Landroval. He knew instinctively it must be Sam. Gandalf imagined that after all their trials and ordeals; Sam would have still been the stronger of the two and would continue to fight for his master even at the very end. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumbling explosion. Gwaihir was forced farther up by the power of blast. Gandalf looked on with horror and shock through a tower of billowing smoke as the unstable ground upon which Sam stood, opened like a gaping maw, swallowing the valiant hobbit into its shadowy depths. Sam was gone.  
  
Gwaihir circled the spot several times going as low as he dared, but there was nothing to be seen. "We must leave this place!" he finally cried to Gandalf. "I cannot withstand these poisonous fumes much longer!" Reluctantly, Gandalf nodded. He knew there was nothing more to be done, but to have lost Sam at the last minute was a bitter draught indeed. If Frodo was still alive, he might yet survive his injuries, but Gandalf questioned whether he could survive the loss of both the Ring and his closest companion. With a heavy heart, he and Gwairhir followed Landroval and Meneldor back to the west.  
  
Legolas stared up into the sky. He had watched as Gandalf and the eagles sped off to the east, to Mordor, in hopes of rescuing Frodo and Sam, and now he watched apprehensively for their return. Gimli stood beside him. "Do you think Gandalf will find them?" he asked quietly.  
  
"I do not know," sighed the Elf, fingering his bow. "We do not know if both Hobbits even made it to Mt. Doom. The Mouth of Sauron had items from each so either could have been captured. Even if both made it to Orodruin, it is unlikely they survived its eruption." He sighed again, continuing to scan the sky to the east. Suddenly, he gripped his bow tighter and stared even more intently.  
  
"I see something!" he cried, trying to make out the details. Gimli stood by impatiently, trying to see for himself. "I can see one eagle and he is carrying someone!" Legolas turned to the dwarf excitedly, "It looks like one of the Hobbits!"  
  
"Where are the other eagles!?" growled Gimli anxiously, "Where is Gandalf?" Soon, even Gimli was able to make out the huge eagle winging its way towards the armies of the West. Aragorn rode up to them, sword in hand. He too was watching the mighty bird.  
  
What do your eyes tell you, Legolas?" he asked, "Can you tell who it is?"  
  
Legolas shook his head. "No," he replied slowly, "I cannot see him well enough. It looks as if the eagle will land in the field behind us."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "I should meet him there. It may be that if the hobbit lives, he will need my help. The armies of Mordor are in retreat and Imrahil and the others are more than capable of handling them without me. Come, let us see what we can do."  
  
The three companions hurried to the field just as Landroval gracefully swooped down and gently lay his burden on the grass. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli followed several Healers as they carried the lifeless hobbit into a nearby tent. Aragorn rushed to the cot where the Hobbit had been settled and felt his heart grow cold. It was Frodo, but a haggard, aged Frodo. Covered with the filth of Mordor, he was barely recognizable, but Strider knew him. Frodo lay unmoving. No breath could be discerned. Aragorn gently lay his hands on Frodo's head and sunk into a healing trance, hoping against hope to bring the Ringbearer back to them.  
  
Legolas and Gimli watched for a few moments, then the anxious elf announced he was going back outside to watch for the others. Gimli nodded and followed him, knowing there was nothing he could do to help Frodo. It wasn't long before Legolas spotted the other two eagles returning to camp. His face fell when he realized that one of the eagles bore no burden. Gandalf was alone. Legolas turned his stricken face to Gimli, unable to utter the words, but one look told the dwarf all he needed to know. Another of the Fellowship had been lost to the Shadow. The two companions watched silently as Gwaihir delivered Gandalf to them, then flew off to follow his brothers. Gandalf's eyes followed the Lord of the Eagle's ascent, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned to face the others.  
  
"Was it Frodo or Sam?" he asked wearily. Although he believed Sam to have perished at the foot of Mt. Doom, he wasn't positive.  
  
"Frodo. He is in yonder tent," replied Legolas, "He was barely alive when he was brought in. Aragorn is with him now. What about Sam?"  
  
Just then, the tent opened and Aragon stumbled out. He looked up in surprise at Gandalf. "I think Frodo will live," he said his voice husky with exhaustion. Bringing Frodo back had sapped him of much of his energy. He looked around expectantly. "Sam?" he asked.  
  
"Sam is lost." Gandalf told them dully. "He was alive when we got there. He and Frodo were marooned on a small hill, surrounded by flame and molten rock. Sam spotted us and raised Frodo up so Landroval could grab him. Then there was a mighty earthquake and Sam was swallowed by Orodruin itself. There was nothing I could have done to save him. If he had not lifted Frodo, do not believe either one would have been rescued. Sam sacrificed himself to save his master." 


	2. The Muroks

Chapter 2 The Muroks  
  
It was the pain that first told Sam he wasn't dead. At least not yet. Everything hurt, as far as he could tell. His head was pounding and trying to breathe brought burning agony both from inside his lungs and out. Ribs must be broken, he thought to himself. He was lying on something relatively soft, not the hard, jagged rocks he would have expected. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. It was very dark with just a dim light off to the side. It felt hot and the air seemed polluted. Where was he? He attempted to move and sit up, but unseen hands gently pushed him back and a whispering voice uttered something he couldn't quite catch. Sam slowly turned his head, trying to see who was with him and at the same time, prevent the pain from worsening.  
  
"Hello?" Sam rasped. His throat was very dry and sore. He remembered it had been a long time since he and Master Frodo had had anything to drink. Frodo! Where was he? For a moment, all thoughts of his predicament vanished as Sam tried to remember just what had happened. He recalled seeing the great eagles and handing Frodo up to one of the mighty birds. He remembered the relief at seeing his master being rescued and carried away to safety. But that was all he remembered and he wasn't positive it actually happened. It could very easily have been a wishful dream. "Mr. Frodo?" he called softly, "Are you here?" He suddenly became aware of a shuffling noise behind him and his eyes widened in alarm when a small orc bearing a dim candle came into his field of view. Sam felt waves of fear wash over him. Memories of the orc hordes in Moria came flooding back! He was in no shape to escape, much less fight them off.  
  
The orc regarded him gravely, but made no menacing moves. Sam stared back at him, trying to slow his panicked breaths. Gradually, he realized there was something different about this orc. The ones he remembered from Moria were like wild creatures. There didn't seem to be any soul or intelligent thought behind those saucer-like eyes. The eyes of this orc were not like that. They looked at Sam with understanding and even more surprising, compassion. "Do not alarm yourself," the orc spoke with the same whispery voice Sam had heard earlier. "I will not harm you."  
  
Sam gulped nervously, "Who..who are you?"  
  
"I am Kuros of the Murok people. Some of our people found you in a collapsed tunnel near Oroduin as they were escaping its wrath. They brought you to me."  
  
Sam stared at Kuros for a moment and then whispered, "Was I alone? Was my master there?" He feared what the answer might me.  
  
Kuros shook his head slowly. "No," he replied, "You were the only one. They were not sure you were even alive, but believed you had had something to do with the destruction of the One Ring and so brought you along." He smiled, or at least Sam thought it was a smile, at the hobbit's shock. "Yes, we know about the One Ring. It is what made us. Thousands of years ago when the Lord Sauron first made the Orcs from tortured elves, some of our ancestors escaped before the transformation had been completed. We managed to keep some of our consciousness and our understanding. We have inhabited the caves and tunnels under and around Orodruin for eons, held by the power of the Ring. Just as the mountain exploded, we felt the Ring's destruction." Kuros studied Sam thoughtfully. "Did you destroy the Ring?"  
  
Sam felt tears welling up in his eyes as he remembered Frodo's last moments in Sammath Naur, fighting that evil wretch Gollum. Although, he had to admit that in the end, Gollum not only saved Frodo from the power of the Ring but destroyed the Ring itself. "No." he said finally, "I didn't destroy the Ring. My master, Mr. Frodo, was the Ringbearer. He carried it all the way from the Shire in the West to here. It was destroyin' him, but he was the true hero!" He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted. "How long have I been here?"  
  
"Six sleeps," replied Kuros. "We do not have light here, so we go by when we sleep. You have been badly injured and are sick from the poisons of the Mountain. We have treated you with the Elixir of Tidak which brought you back from the brink of death. Unfortunately, you cannot stay here much longer. Although my people can live breathing the foul air in these caverns, above- grounders cannot survive for very long. We have taken you to the very edge of our tunnel realm where the fumes from the mountain are less, but all of the air in Mordor is bad. Your lungs have been injured by the toxic gases, and thus are even more sensitive to the poisons. You will die if you stay much longer."  
  
Sam lay there thinking. He couldn't stay here, but he wasn't sure how badly he was injured. Plus, he had no idea where "here" was. Where should he go? He wondered if Strider and the others were alive and if so, where were they? Who could help him? Then, he remembered Captain Faramir, Boromir's brother. He said he would be returning to Minas Tirith to fight. Maybe he would help a poor lost Hobbit.  
  
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Sam slowly rolled to his side and with Kuros' assistance managed to sit up. Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him as the pounding in his head threatened to push him back into unconsciousness. He breathed as deeply as he dared and slowly the dizziness began to subside. He felt very shaky and a cold sweat beaded on his brow. He looked over at the small orc who held him. "I won't make it very far like this!" Sam gasped.  
  
"I'm afraid you have no choice," replied Kuros gravely. "Under other circumstances, it would have been better for you to remain under our care until you were stronger, but if you stay, you will die. There is no other choice. I will have some of my people escort you as far as they can and we can provide you with some water and food, but you will be on your own for most of your journey. We have heard rumors of a great army to the north, attacking the Black Gate. Perhaps you would be best served by that route. However, the track through Cirith Ungol would bring you closer to the city of Minas Tirith and the men of Gondor. They could perhaps help you. Either way will be perilous. Even though the power of the Dark Lord has been destroyed, his minions still hold sway in the lands of Mordor. They will kill you if they catch you. "  
  
Sam sighed wearily. He gingerly took inventory of his injuries. It seemed that many of his ribs had been broken or at least badly bruised, his head was swathed in bandages and ached mercilessly. Breathing was difficult and periodically he was racked by a deep, rattling cough that brought up blood. That was not a good sign, he was certain. His entire body felt badly bruised and any movement brought sharp pain. Somehow, he would have to overcome this and make his way out of Mordor and to the West: first to Minas Tirith and then, with any luck, home to the Shire. 


	3. On the Road

Chapter 3 On the Road  
  
Sam leaned against the wall of the cavern, his eyes closed with weariness. Two of Kuros' companions had led the hobbit to this cavern whose opening led to the Plateau of Gorgoroth. From here, he would be able to reach the road he and Frodo had followed on their hellish journey towards Mt. Doom. Sam didn't know if orcs or other troops of Sauron's army were using the road that led towards Minas Morgul, but Sam didn't think he had the strength to travel cross country again. The terrain was rough and merciless. No water was to be found in the desolate wilderness and Sam didn't relish the thought of going through that again. Kuros had given him water and food, but Sam would have to ration it carefully as he didn't know when he would be able to replenish his meager supplies. Kuros had also given him a flask containing a clear amber liquid called the Elixir of Tidak which helped revitalize him but had little in the way of additional healing powers. Kuros explained that although the elixir had saved his life, it was not a miracle cure. He knew he had to ration the elixir as well as he had no idea how long it would take him to reach Gondor. The elixir helped alleviate the pain, but when it wore off, things seemed even worse. Kuros told him not to depend on it too heavily. It could make him feel better and cause him to do more than he should, thus aggravating his injuries. So, he had to be careful in using it. "I wouldn't mind soakin' in a barrel o' this stuff!" he sighed to himself as he packed the flask away.  
  
He planned to retrace the route he and Frodo had taken to Mt. Doom. He didn't much like the thought of passing through Cirith Ungol again, but he hoped that maybe the city of Minas Morgul had been abandoned now that Sauron had fallen. He did worry about meeting up with the giant spider, Shelob, but he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He still had Sting and it had proven effective against her before. Hopefully, it would again, if it came down to it. He also had the Lady's phial and he knew how useful that could be.  
  
Sam had decided to wait until nightfall before heading out. The scorching rays of the sun were brutal in these wastelands and moving by night would help him conserve his water. He slumped down onto the dusty floor and stared out through the opening. It was partially concealed by rocks outside, but he still felt exposed. His thoughts once again fell on his lost master. Where could Frodo be? Was he killed on Mt. Doom or had he been rescued by the eagles? Sam desperately wanted to believe the latter. Finding Frodo was the only thing that kept him going. If he did manage to make it to Minas Tirith and found that Frodo had been killed, then the least he could do was to make sure everyone knew what a hero his dear master had been. Carrying that ring for so long and for so far had nearly destroyed him. Tears came to Sam's eyes as he remembered the wild look in Frodo's eyes when the Ring had finally triumphed in the fiery darkness of Sammath Naur. It was the worst moment of Sam's life as he realized he had lost Frodo to the evil of the Ring's power at last. He gave a small laugh. Well, that Stinker had proved to be the savior in the end.  
  
He thought about the lonely journey ahead. How he wished Frodo was with him! It was bad enough making the trip the first time, but at least he wasn't alone. Helping Frodo had given Sam the strength he had needed that time. He didn't have that same incentive now. However, he didn't much like the idea of dying out here alone in the bleak lands of Mordor. "If I'm going to die on this journey, I'd much rather do it in a nicer place, like Ithilien, maybe. If I die here, I'm just as likely to be eaten by some passing orc! No, thank you!" He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Despite his fear and pain, he was finally able to sleep.  
  
When he woke, several hours later, the sun was just disappearing over the horizon. "Alright, Samwise Gamgee" he said to himself, "Now's the time for it. Time for you to leave this awful place and go home!" He lifted his small, battered pack. It had made the journey all the way from the Shire with him. All he had left was his elven rope, his Lothlorien cloak and the Lady's gifts. He had dumped all his other gear into a crevasse on the final leg of their trip to Mt. Doom. "I surely do miss my cooking pots!" he thought sadly. "Not that I have anything to cook!" The pack also carried the supplies given to him by Kuros. Still it was not too heavy and although painful to put on, Sam was able to tolerate it. He peered out through the rocks again, but had to step back into the cavern as a deep, racking cough convulsed his thin body. Gasping for breath, he leaned against the wall to rest. He could taste blood. He waited as the sharp pain from his broken ribs gradually subsided into a throbbing ache. Breathing was difficult at best and again, the despairing hobbit wondered how he would ever manage.  
  
After a few moments, Sam pushed himself from the wall and staggered to the cave opening again. He listened carefully and hearing nothing, stepped outside and limped up the slope to road above. The climb was a steep one, but by sheer determination, Sam made it to the top. He looked both ways and again listened carefully, but no sound was to be heard. Taking a deep breath and hitching up his pack, Sam turned west and started on his way.  
  
The road was broad and empty and it made Sam's journey much easier. However, his progress was slow and he found he had to stop frequently to rest. "This will never do," he panted as he stopped for the fourth time in an hour. "I'll never get out of Mordor at this rate!" He was frustrated by his lack of strength and stamina. His head was throbbing and the bandage covering the wound he had sustained from being knocked down by Gollum was soaked with a cold sweat. He was frequently racked by bloody bouts of coughing which left him feeling spent. He reached into his pack and slowly removed the flask containing the elixir. He uncorked the top and took a deep draught of the spicy liquid. He closed his eyes and almost immediately felt new strength flow through his limbs. Maybe he shouldn't take it too often, but he would need it if he were to make any progress at all. He climbed to his feet and headed purposefully down the road.  
  
His luck held for the next several days and he met no one on the empty road. He traveled by night and rested where he could during the day. There wasn't much shelter in this barren wilderness, but he could usually find some rocks that provided at least the illusion of cover. He took the elixir more than he knew he aught, but justified it in his mind saying that he just needed it until he escaped from Mordor. He wouldn't need it so much after that. He hoped.  
  
On the seventh day after leaving the relative safety of the Muroks' labyrinth under Mt. Doom, Sam's luck finally gave out. It was late evening and Sam had at last reached the foothills of Ephel Duat'h. He shivered with apprehension as he looked towards the towers of Minas Morgul in the distance, shining silver in the moonlight. He remembered the last time he and Frodo had been in this terrible place and Frodo's rescue from the tower of Cirith Ungol. His poor master had been cruelly treated there and of course there was that hideous spider, Shelob. A small smile came to Sam's lips as he remembered the frightened orcs claiming that a powerful Elf-warrior had vanquished the monster. That so- called "warrior-Elf" had been none other than a small, frightened hobbit by the name of Samwise Gamgee. "Oh Mr. Frodo," he sighed to himself, "Thank goodness you're not here to have to see this awful place again!"  
  
Sam was exhausted and decided not to go any further into the pass. He resolved to rest for the remainder of the night and attempt the pass in the morning. He hoped that by traveling through the dark, dank passageways under the mountains during the daytime, he might avoid seeing Shelob. If he did cross paths with the horrible creature, he still had the elven blade, Sting, as well as the Lady's light. That had deterred the spider before. He was really hoping that she was still deep in her lair, nursing her wound from their last encounter. He found a small alcove among some rocks, tucked his pack under his head and settled down to sleep.  
  
"Well, well, well. What little rat 'ave we here?" Sam woke with a start as a deep, rasping voice sounded in his ear. Gasping for breath and clutching his sore ribs, he abruptly sat up and found himself face to face with the cruel, leering face of large orc! Sam couldn't say a word. He looked around, panic stricken, and realized he was surrounded by four more grinning monsters. He was trapped! 


	4. Alone in Minas Tirith

Author's note: Thanks to Aly Teima, Bronwyn, and Amrun for the kind reviews! I appreciate the feedback and the encourangement.  
  
Chapter 4 Alone in Minas Tirith  
  
Frodo stared moodily out across the meadow in front of the Healer's tent. It had been several days since he first awoke in the sunlit bower in Ithilien, and he had never been more miserable in his life. After the destruction of the Ring, he had felt a strange emptiness within, but it was nothing compared to the heart-rending loss he felt upon learning of Sam's death. It was all his fault, of course. He should never have allowed faithful Samwise Gamgee to follow him on this perilous quest. Sam should have stayed home, safe and sound in the Shire, caring for the gardens of Bag End and courting the lovely Rosie Cotton. Mordor was no place for such as him. Frodo pondered that thought for a moment. Truth be told, Mordor wasn't a place for anyone. His friends had all reassured him over and over that Sam's death was not his fault, but Frodo simply couldn't accept that. He was responsible for Sam and Sam had not returned from black lands of Mordor. If anyone should have died in that horrible place, it should have been him.  
  
Frodo gave a small sob and buried his head in his hands. He lifted his head when he felt a warm hand gently rest on his shoulder. "Hello, Gandalf," he said wearily.  
  
The tall wizard looked sadly down on his small friend. Gandalf had been very worried about Frodo ever since he had been brought out of the fires of Mordor. He knew the loss of the Ring would be hard for the Hobbit to bear, but Gandalf hadn't counted on Frodo having to endure the loss of his dearest companion as well. Frodo had been deeply depressed ever since learning of Sam's death and his recovery was not going as well as they had hoped. The weary hobbit had little appetite and did not sleep well. His dreams were all of pain and loss. It had gotten to the point where he could only sleep through the night if drugged or placed under a sleeping spell. Aragorn's healing powers had saved his life, of course, but they couldn't mend a broken heart.  
  
"How are you feeling today, Frodo?" asked Gandalf gently. "It is a beautiful day. Would you like to spend some time in the gardens?" Frodo had not left the tent except for the day he was honored for his completion of the quest. Frodo didn't want to remember that day. All he could think about was his missing friend. He certainly didn't feel like a hero. Of course, Sam was also honored, but what did those people know about what really happened in Mordor? How could they possibly understand that the only reason the quest didn't end in total disaster was because of Sam's efforts? Except for a few elves and the remaining members of the Fellowship, Samwise Gamgee would be nothing more than a name on a monument. Few outside of the Shire would have any idea who he had been. Frodo knew he himself would be remembered as the Savior of Middle Earth, but it wasn't true.  
  
"No," replied Frodo dully. "I prefer to stay here. I get weary of people pointing at me and cheering. I know they think I destroyed the Ring and saved them all and I can't stand living a lie."  
  
"Frodo Baggins, you are not living a lie!" growled Gandalf irritably. They had been over this before. "You managed to resist the power of the Ring and take it to the Cracks of Doom when no other could have managed it. Maybe you did not throw the Ring into the fires yourself, but it never would have gotten there without you! Despite what you might say, you are a hero!"  
  
"I wouldn't have gotten very far without Sam!" retorted Frodo, staring out into the distance. He watched the soldiers from different lands going about their business in the camp and it made him yearn for the familiarity of his home in Hobbiton. "Time after time Sam kept me going. He carried me up the very slopes of Mt. Doom on his back! He gave me the water and Lembas without taking any for himself. He never lost hope. Never! Even when he thought I had been killed by that vile monster, Shelob, he still had the heart to attempt to finish the quest alone. It was his belief in me and his determination to see the thing through to the bitter end that saved us. Not me! Not only did I fail to destroy the Ring, I killed my dearest and most faithful friend! How can I go on?" He buried his head in his arms and rested them on his knees. His grief and sense of guilt was an overwhelming burden and he just didn't see how he could carry on much longer.  
  
Gandalf continued to study his dear friend. How could he help Frodo out of this black cloud of depression? He had tried all the usual arguments and rational discussions, but Frodo couldn't see past his pain. He was wasting away before their very eyes and unless they could give him some reason to keep on living, they would lose him. He was seriously considering having Aragon put Frodo back into a healing sleep until they could figure out a way to help him. At least he would be free from his dark thoughts and misery for a time. If something didn't happen to bring Frodo out of his despair, they may not have any choice.  
  
Gandalf turned at the sound of a light knock on the support pole of the tent. Pippin's head could be seen peering in through the tent door. "Hullo!" he called quietly, "Can we come in?"  
  
Gandalf smiled at the sight of the young hobbit. Pippin and Merry had been frequent visitors and it always seemed to cheer Frodo up. "Good morning, Master Took!" greeted the wizard, "Yes, do come in. Perhaps you can talk some sense into your stubborn cousin!" Pippin slipped inside the room carrying a large basket. Merry followed close behind carrying one of his own. Gandalf deciding that perhaps it would be best if he left the hobbits alone, slipped out of the tent, closing the flap behind him.  
  
"We brought you some breakfast, Frodo!" announce Merry, ignoring Frodo's forlorn look. "You lost a lot of weight on your journey, something no self-respecting hobbit should do, and we need to fatten you up!"  
  
Frodo sighed. "Thank you, Merry," he began, "But I'm really not hungry." However, a small smile formed on his pale lips as he watched his cousins set up an elaborate table with fancy china and silver.  
  
Merry continued as if he hadn't heard, "One of Prince Imrahil's servants lent us some of the Prince's best tableware. We told him that we needed to set a fine table for one of the most famous hobbits in Middle Earth! At first he wasn't going to trust us (it didn't help that Pippin dropped one of the plates!) but, in the end we convinced him to let us use it. If you refuse to join us, we're sure the Prince will take great offense and no doubt be forced to go to war with the Shire because of this affront. So you see, in the name of world peace, you must dine with us!"  
  
For the first time since he woke, Frodo laughed. Not a large laugh perhaps, but a laugh all the same and it gave the others hope. "Alright, Meriodoc Brandybuck, Knight of the Mark," he agreed, with a slight smile still playing about his lips, " I will join you for breakfast. I wouldn't want to insult the good Prince! Just don't expect me to eat too much!"  
  
So, Frodo sat down with his cousins and began to eat. He found that once he started, his appetite was far greater than he imagined. It was still nothing like that of a normal hobbit, but it went a long way in getting much needed nourishment into Frodo's wasted body. He found that after eating and spending time with Pippin and Merry, listening to their adventures, he felt better than he had in a long time. As time went on, he was finally able to tell some of his own dark journey. By opening up to his dear friends, he was able to release some of his deepest pain and that was a major step towards his own recovery. Maybe he would be able to carry on after all. 


	5. The Haradrim

Chapter 5 The Haradrim  
  
Sam stared about him in horror. He was frozen with fear and couldn't think of anyway to escape. Sting was securely strapped into its scabbard and it was impossible for him to pull it free now. The orcs were studying him with a hungry look in their eyes. They were a bloodthirsty lot and Sam had no doubts they would just soon eat him as look at him. "What are you doing here, rat?" demanded the first orc. He seized Sam by his shirt and lifted him from the ground, peering at him with bloodshot eyes.  
  
"I.I." stuttered Sam, but no words came out. He couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
"Wait a minute," growled a second orc. This one had a livid scar running across the front of his face. "Didn't Shagrat capture one of these cockroaches awhile back? We spent days lookin' for him after he escaped. They say a mighty Elf-warrior rescued him!"  
  
"That's right!" agreed another, "Seems the little rat carried something mighty valuable that Lord Sauron wanted."  
  
The first orc, who seemed somewhat more intelligent than the others, thought for a moment. "The Ring," he said slowly, "The One Ring. It was destroyed and Lord Sauron was overthrown." His eyes narrowed as he turned to the frightened hobbit. "We thought you were nothing but a spy, but looks like you had something more in mind, didn't you, Rat? You destroyed Lord Sauron's Ring and ruined everything! We would have had power over all Middle Earth but because of you, now we have nothing!" He shook Sam roughly, causing him to gasp with pain.  
  
The other orcs had been slowly closing in on him and Sam could smell their foul breath. It wouldn't make any difference if he told them he hadn't thrown the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom. They certainly wouldn't believe him and would kill him regardless. "Let's have some fun with this worm before we kill 'im!" cried one of the orcs. "Since we've had to suffer, so should he!" The other orcs echoed this sentiment and started reaching for Sam.  
  
The first orc stepped back from the others, holding Sam high. "Oh, he'll suffer, alright," he grinned maliciously, "But we must be careful not to kill him too quickly!" The orcs roared in delight, looking forward to an entertaining evening.  
  
Later, Sam could never recall just how long the orcs had tortured him. They had tossed him around like a ball, flogged him with their cruel whips, and beat him mercilessly and those were just the horrid things he let himself remember. As dawn began to paint the sky a pale grey, the orcs grew tired of their sport. Sam lay huddled on the cold rock as the vile creatures argued about what to do with him next. Some wanted to eat him immediately. Others wanted to keep him around a bit longer for some more fun. One wondered if he might be worth something yet, to those that still held some power, such as the black Numenarian, the Mouth of Sauron. Sam was shivering uncontrollably. He had curled himself into a tight ball, trying to ignore the pain that seemed to fill his entire body. Was he ever to know what it was like to live pain-free again? Ever since he had set foot in Mordor with Mr. Frodo, so very long ago, pain had become his constant companion. Death was beginning to seem like an attractive alternative.  
  
"I says we eats him now!" snarled one of the smaller orcs. "What's the use of keepin' it alive? I'm hungry and he'd make a nice snack!"  
  
"Snack for who!?" shot back another, "You goin' to eat 'im all yerself? He's certainly not big enough fer all of us!" This got the orcs to fighting among themselves even more viciously; each one determined to get the lion's share of the prize. Sam tried to make himself invisible, slowly inching himself behind a boulder. Maybe they would get so involved with their fight, he would find an opportunity to slip away.  
  
The argument had escalated into actual violence when suddenly, Sam felt himself being grabbed and lifted. "I think I'll just eat you meself!" grinned the biggest orc. "The others are too busy fightin', so I think you and I will just take a little walk!" Sam felt his stomach drop. He knew he couldn't escape this time. He was too weak and too beaten. Maybe being eaten wouldn't be too bad, he thought numbly. At least the pain would stop. Just as he had resigned himself to becoming the orc's breakfast, he slowly realized he could hear the pounding of horses' hooves. The large orc's head snapped up as he too recognized the sound and he turned to the north. To Sam's surprise, a large troop of horsemen came galloping around the bend of the pathway.  
  
Sam had never seen men like these. They wore black armor and rode coal black horses. He at first thought they might be the Nazgul, but he soon realized these were not those Black Riders. The leader of the troop pulled his horse to a stop and studied the scene before him. To him, it appeared that several orcs were torturing some child and even though they had come to fight on the side of Lord Sauron, the captain was not about to leave a child in the hands of these foul creatures. The other riders closed in around the orcs, some with swords ready. They all wore black helms topped with a red plume, and all that could be seen were their black, glittering eyes peering through the eye slits.  
  
These were riders from the south, from the plains of Harad. They had come to fight for the dark Lord Sauron, but were now returning home. Most of their army had been destroyed and small bands, such as this one, were making their way back to the south as they best they could. It was by pure chance they had come upon Sam and his captors. The Haradrim hated the orcs as much as any men from the West, but had accepted the fact they must fight with them. However, now that Sauron's power had been destroyed, they felt no sense of alliance with the foul creatures and happily whenever they could.  
  
"What is happening here?" demanded the captain, staring down at the orc holding Sam. "Put him down!"  
  
The orc snarled defiantly and lifted Sam higher, as if to dash him to the ground. However, he never got the chance. A red- fletched arrow suddenly appeared, as if by magic, in the center of his chest. The orc stared in confusion at the quivering arrow for a moment and then collapsed, dead. Sam rolled away from the orc as he landed on the rocky ground and scurried behind a large boulder, trying to keep away from the horses' hooves. As if the arrow had been a signal, the other riders stormed in and cut down the remaining orcs. One rider reached down, plucked Sam from his hiding place and carried him over to the captain.  
  
The Captain removed his helm, freeing his long black hair. He was a handsome man with deep, penetrating eyes. His high cheekbones and patrician nose gave him a regal look. He stared at Sam, his eyes dark with confusion. "What is this now?" he asked in surprise, as the rider approached with Sam seated in front of him. "This is no child! It is a little man!" The other riders crowded around, trying to get a better look at the strange creature. None had ever seen or even heard of hobbits before.  
  
Sam looked around at the sea of black helms before looking back into the swarthy face of the leader. He didn't know if these newcomers were friend or foe but he assumed anything was better than orcs. "Please, sir. My.my name is Samwise Gamgee," he mumbled. His face was badly swollen from the orc's beatings, but he knew he had to speak to these men. "I'm a hobbit from the Shire.in the west."  
  
The Captain frowned. "A hobbit?" he echoed. He looked around at his men, but none seemed any more enlightened than he on this subject. "I have never heard of a "hobbit". Are there more like you? And what are you doing here in Mordor? Have you come to fight for Lord Sauron?"  
  
Sam began to panic. If he told these men exactly what he was doing in Mordor, they would probably kill him. He didn't think any minions of the Dark Lord would look kindly upon someone who had helped destroy the One Ring. He fumbled desperately for something to say, when a strange rasping laugh erupted behind him. The men all turned towards the source of the sound and Sam was surprised to see that one of the orcs was not quite dead. The orc leered up at him.  
  
"I can tell you what that little rat was doin' 'ere!" the orc gasped, "He destroyed the Dark Lord's Ring! It's all 'is fault we was defeated! All o' Middle Earth coulda been ours, if tweren't fer 'im!" The orc laughed again, then with a final rattling cough, he collapsed, dead.  
  
The Captain turned back towards Sam, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Is this true?" he asked quietly. Sam again found himself speechless. He didn't think he could lie to those black, piercing eyes.  
  
"Umm," he began weakly, "I, uh, well, not exactly." He was shaking both from fear and pain. He was afraid to admit his part in the Ring's destruction. Then, he thought about how much his dear Mr. Frodo had suffered to get the Ring to Mt. Doom; how they both had suffered. He thought about the deaths of Gandalf and Boromir as well as of the deaths of countless others in the fight against Lord Sauron. Suddenly, Sam was proud of his small part in the downfall of the Dark Lord. Maybe these men would kill him for it. Well, so be it! He was more than half dead already and if Mr. Frodo had gone down that path already, perhaps he would meet up with him on the other side. He didn't care anymore. He wanted the pain to stop and he wanted these men to know he was Samwise Gamgee, servant to the great Ring Bearer himself.  
  
Sam sat up as straight as his pain-wracked body would let him and looked the dark captain in the eye. "No," he rasped, "I didn't destroy the cursed Ring, but I helped the one who carried it. I was with Mr. Frodo on the journey all the way from the first step out of the Shire to last one on Mt. Doom. Maybe it weren't me that threw it into the fires, but I made sure it got there! I carried Mr. Frodo on my own back all the way up that horrid mountain so's he could destroy it. Me! Samwise Gamgee! I may only be a simple gardener, but I know evil when I see it and that Ring was pure evil! It almost destroyed Mr. Frodo and it's where it should be!" His outburst left him panting, but he had no regrets. He stared defiantly at the rider who looked down at him thoughtfully.  
  
"So, the One Ring has truly been destroyed? I believed it to be true when I felt the Dark Lord's power diminish and he lost control of the orcs and other fell beasts, but it is always good to have such a thing confirmed by one who was there." The Captain looked over at the dead orcs and shook his head in disgust, then back to the trembling hobbit. "It is hard to believe that one as small as yourself could accomplish such an incredible deed. You mention a companion. Is he a small one, like yourself?"  
  
Sam was puzzled by the lack of anger in the captain's reaction, but he nodded slowly in reply. "Mr. Frodo was my master. I was his gardener back in the Shire. That's where we come from. I lost him when Mt. Doom exploded. Now, I'm trying to get back home."  
  
The Captain had listened intently to Sam's reply, but smiled sadly at his last remark. "I am most sorry, my little master, but you will not be returning to your home. I am Captain Fahim and I know my emperor would be most interested in you. We have never seen hobbits before in my land and that would be reason enough to take you back, but my Lord, the Emperor Assadim, would want me to bring to him as prisoner one who helped destroy our great plans. If you are lucky, he may not have you executed, but perhaps simply enslaved. You would be an interesting addition to his household." The captain nodded to the rider holding Sam, wheeled his horse to the right and rode off, continuing on his southward route. Sam's rider took a length of rope from his pack and tied Sam's hands tightly together and then to the pommel of his saddle. He then turned his horse and followed his companions. Sam was headed south. 


	6. Sayeed

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for the encouraging reviews! I'm still new to this, but it's been fun writing. I promise, this story does have a definite ending (although there are still many chapters coming, I know how it will end so you won't be left hanging!). Thanks again and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.  
  
Chapter 6 Sayeed  
  
Sam had ridden on small hobbit sized ponies many times in his life, and he desperately wished for one now. He rode in front of a tall Haradrim rider atop an even taller Haradrim steed. The horse's broad back was a very uncomfortable seat for one as small as he. Sam had spent a good deal of the day's ride unconscious, but when he awoke in the late afternoon, the rider forced him to drink some bitter liquid that at least dulled the pain and made him more alert. There were probably twenty riders in the band, all wearing the same black and red armor. They spoke little and usually in some language Sam didn't understand. They never spoke to him, including the rider who carried him. Sam wearily wondered how far they would have to travel. He knew nothing about these lands and had no concept of where the riders came from. He just knew they were taking him farther and farther from home.  
  
The troop had ridden tirelessly and rarely stopped. The horses were strong and fleet and it appeared to Sam that they could go on forever. However, as the sun dropped low on the horizon, Captain Fahim reined in his horse and looked around. They had been traveling parallel to the mountains on the west and had now come to a second range blocking their way to the south. It was apparent that the troop planned to camp at the foot of these mountains and the men began to dismount. Sam's captor gracefully swung down from his horse then lifted Sam to the ground. Sam's legs felt weak and numb and collapsed under him. He grunted in pain as he hit the ground. The rider shook his head, reached down to grab Sam, then strode off towards the captain with the hapless hobbit under his arm.  
  
It was obvious that the rider was not keen on being stuck babysitting a prisoner for the entire journey. The captain conferred with him briefly, then signaled for a smaller man to join them. When the newcomer removed his helm, it was obvious that he was little more than a boy. The captain turned to Sam, "This is Sayeed. He is now responsible for you and you must obey his every order." Captain Fahim studied Sam more carefully in the fading sunlight, then turned to Sayeed. "Take him to Takir for medical care. I did not realize he had been so badly treated by those foul orcs. We do not want the Emperor's prize to die before we reach home!" He turned away to confer with several other riders, obviously dismissing them.  
  
The boy looked down at Sam with frank curiosity. Other than children, he had never seen such a small person before. "What do they call you?" he asked in heavily accented Westron.  
  
"My name is Samwise Gamgee," replied Sam hoarsely, "But most people simply call me Sam. Please sir, might I have some water?" Sayeed looked at Sam in concern. He suddenly realized how injured the small man looked. He quickly reached to his belt and handed Sam a wooden water flask. Sam drank desperately. He couldn't remember the last water he'd had. It must have been the previous day, before the orcs captured him. He was still sitting on the ground where the first rider had set him, and he wasn't sure he had the strength or the energy to regain his legs. They were starting to have some feeling again, but he didn't think he could walk. His hands were also feeling numb having been tied for so long. He fumbled the water flask as he tried to hand it back to Sayeed.  
  
Sayeed squatted next to Sam and with a large knife, deftly cut the bonds binding his hands. "I do not think you will run away," the boy said thoughtfully. "Can you walk?"  
  
Sam shook his head slowly and looked at the boy. Sayeed was tall and thin, but looked no more than 15 years in Sam's opinion, although he hadn't seen many human children. He was dark like the other men, but with a smooth almond complexion, dark, mahogany eyes and a ready grin. His hair was thick and black, tied in a braid in the back. In turn, the young man studied Sam. He was intrigued by this small man. He had heard Sam tell about his part in destroying the Ring, but it was hard to believe that someone no bigger than a child could traverse the hostile barrens of Mordor and Mt. Doom, destroy the power of the One Ring, and then survive to tell about it. Well, hopefully he would survive. Sayeed frowned as he viewed Sam's injuries. It was time to take him to the healer.  
  
"Come then, Sam," Said announced, "It is time to go and get you looked at." With little effort, Sayeed lifted the wasted Hobbit in his arms and set off to a corner of the camp where an older man was brushing his steaming horse. The man looked up as Sayeed approached.  
  
"I was wondering when you would arrive," the man said in a matter of fact way. He turned his attention to Sam. "So, you are a hobbit. I have never heard of your people, but I assume you are like other men, just smaller. I will do what I can for you. I am Takir" The healer motioned for Sayeed to set Sam down on a blanket near the horse as he searched through his pack for his supplies.  
  
Takir was skilled at his profession and he deftly cleaned and bandaged Sam's many wounds and injuries. He applied a gooey, green salve which seemed to bring almost instant relieve from the pain. He then forced Sam to drink several different unpleasant tonics. Finally, Takir sat back on heels and surveyed his patient. "There," he sighed, "I have done all I can for you, my friend. Why you are still alive, I do not know. You hobbits must be a hardy people. Now, you need much rest and nourishment. One of the tonics I gave you will make you sleep. Another I hope will help heal your damaged lungs. Although, I fear those may never fully heal. Infection is now our biggest concern." The healer looked at Sayeed, "You and the hobbit must stay by me tonight so I may keep an eye on him. He will need my care for some time if we are to insure he survives the trip to Harad."  
  
Sayeed nodded and turned to Sam, "I must go and care for my horse, Indah, but I shall return shortly. You will stay here with Takir." Sam was lying on the blanket and felt as if his ears were stuffed with cotton. Sayeed's voice seemed to become more and more muffled until Sam couldn't make out a single word. His entire body felt as heavy as lead and slowly but surely, darkness covered all of Sam's thoughts and he knew no more. 


	7. Swept Away

Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long to get this next chapter up. For some reason, I couldn't get the site to upload it!  
  
Chapter 7 Swept Away  
  
Sam actually felt better the next morning. He didn't think it was possible, but the effects of Takir's tonics were remarkable. Takir nodded with satisfaction as he noted the hobbit's improved color and energy. "I think you will live, small one," he smiled. "You still have a long way until you are fully recovered, but I believe you will be alright in time. We must feed you well so that you will be strong and healthy when we present you to the emperor." Sam felt his stomach drop at the mention of this emperor. He didn't think being executed for his part in the destruction of the One Ring or becoming a slave sounded particularly pleasant. All he could do was hope that he would find an opportunity to escape, although, in his present condition, he doubted he would make it very far. He sighed mournfully as he considered his predicament.  
  
"Do not be sad, Samwise Gamgee," said Sayeed cheerfully, "You may find that you like our country and will be content there. Harad is beautiful in its own way.  
  
"Oh, I don't doubt it, Master Sayeed," replied Sam slowly, "But you see, sir, it's been a very long time since I've set foot in my home back in the Shire and I miss it with all my heart. The Shire is one of the most beautiful places in all o' Middle Earth and make no mistake about that! I've seen many a strange place since me and Mr. Frodo left Hobbiton, but none, not even Lothlorien or Rivendell can compare to the Shire in my opinion!" Sam looked away, tears forming in his eyes, as he recalled more pleasant times back in the Shire with Mr. Frodo and the rest of his friends and family. What wouldn't he give to be back home in Bagshot Row or in the gardens of Bag End.  
  
He didn't have time to think about this for long, for the captain ordered everyone to pack up and get ready to move out. It took Sayeed only a few moments to return his meager possessions to his pack and saddle his waiting steed, Indah. Then, he gently lifted Sam onto the tall black horse before swinging himself easily into the saddle behind him. Takir handed Sayeed a small flask. "Give the hobbit a drink of this every few hours. It will help strengthen him." Sayeed nodded and tucked the flask into his shirt. He then turned Indah and joined the others already waiting.  
  
The troop was forced to head east now, along a low mountain range running perpendicular to the main range. Sam wondered how long they would have to travel to finally reach their destination. Although he felt better, he was still in considerable pain and very tired. The horse's gait was surprisingly smooth and Sam slept, lulled by Indah's steady rocking motion. When he awoke, Said would make him drink some of Takir's tonic which although foul tasting, did make him stronger. He watched dully as the barren wastelands passed before his eyes. He remembered the last journey through Mordor he had made with Mr. Frodo and was thankful at least his beloved master was not here with him now. "Even if he is dead," he thought pensively, "He's in a better spot than me!"  
  
As the sun began to disappear behind the mountains at their back, Sam saw that they had come to the end of the range barring their way to the south. He finally got up enough nerve to ask Sayeed about their route.  
  
"When we came," began the young rider, "We rode with a great army of footsoldiers up the Harad Road, through the gardens of Ithilien and on to the Black Gates of Mordor. It was a much faster way than how we go now. Unfortunately, the armies of the West now control the northern portion of Ithilien and we cannot return that way. So, we will follow the mountains until we come to the River Poros. It starts in the mountains just south of this range blocking our way and has created a pass we can use. We expect to reach the river in 2 or 3 more days. I just hope the enemy has not blocked our way to the south."  
  
"And that'll put me that much farther from the Shire and home," muttered Sam despondently. The troop settled down for the night at the foot of the mountains. They were in a relaxed mood, more than ready to go home. This foray into Mordor had been a disaster for all concerned. Now that Lord Sauron had fallen, there was no iincentive to keep them there.  
  
The next few days were simply repetitions of the first. Sam was slowly regaining is strength, but still experienced considerable discomfort, which made the trip even more miserable. He was terribly depressed. He missed Mr. Frodo desperately and was apprehensive about his future. He felt hope slowly slipping away. The Haradrim were not cruel to him, although with the exception of Sayeed and an occasional visit from, Takir, he was ignored. Sayeed would sometimes tell him stories of life in Harad, stories of adventure and exotic creatures (Sam was fascinated by Oliphaunts) which helped pass the time. In turn, Sam told him about Frodo and the Shire and stories he remembered from Bilbo. The two were becoming unlikely friends.  
  
They met no one, but the captain never let down his guard. He knew there were random groups of unrestrained orcs traveling throughout Mordor and he didn't wish to encounter any unprepared. He made sure guards were set every night and all of the riders kept their eyes open during the day. Finally, on the fifth day of their trip, they came upon the small gap in the mountains that led to the River Poros and out of the black lands of Mordor. The troop would be forced to ride up into the mountains to the head of the river and follow it out to Ithilien where it would be large enough to navigate if the terrain was too rough for the horses.  
  
Captain Fahim led the group of black-clad riders into the canyon where the river had its start. The narrow defile was just wide enough for one rider at a time, so they rode in single file. Sam and Sayeed were near the end of the line. Sam was feeling very claustrophobic between the high, close walls of the gorge. He remembered similar places from his travels with Mr. Frodo in Emyn Muil and the memories were not pleasant ones. The troop was steadily climbing uphill and the going was difficult for the horses. The large beasts did not seem to like the passageway any more than Sam.  
  
They rode in silence. Sam felt as it every sound made by the horses was amplified in this confined space and he worried that perhaps an avalanche might bury them all. "This might by a fine place for a dwarf like Gimli," he thought nervously to himself, "But it's not a fit place for a hobbit!"  
  
When they finally reached the crest of the pass, the party was relieved to find the narrow passageway opened into a wider gorge. A steam flowed down the center and the sky was visible above them. The riders stopped so that their horses could drink. A couple of the men who had scouted ahead were waiting for them with news of what lay ahead.  
  
Sayeed watched the older men with a certain yearning in his eyes. Sam realized that babysitting him probably wasn't the most exciting assignment for a young soldier and almost felt a little a sorry for his guard. "Do you think it will be easier from here?" the hobbit asked. Sayeed blinked and at looked down at his charge.  
  
"I do not know," he said absently, "If it is any worse, we will have to turn back." Sam didn't think that sounded promising. He didn't want to be a captive, but at least they were heading out of Mordor. He still hoped he could figure out a way to escape once they were past the mountains and into Ithilien.  
  
Fortunately for all, the gorge was passable and the horses were able to navigate their way through the water and the rocks without too much difficulty. It was still very narrow, but riders could travel two or three abreast. The path continued downhill now and the stream grew larger the farther they went. It was now more of a river and some places looked dangerously deep and rapid. As the day progressed, dark clouds began to form over the Mountains of Shadows and the wind started to rise. The horses became increasingly nervous, as did their riders. There was no cover in the gorge and the only logical course was to journey on as quickly as they could and hope they reached safer terrain before the storm hit in full force.  
  
Sam was feeling the tension. He didn't like storms and the force of the wind was making headway difficult. Sam looked up in alarm as he felt the first plop of a fat raindrop on his head. Sayeed's head snapped up as he too felt the beginnings of the rain's assault. "This is not good, my little friend," yelled Sayeed above the roar of the wind and the river, "You must hold on very tightly!" Sam nodded that he understood and gripped the pommel of the saddle with even greater force. He felt Sayeed's arm grasp him more firmly about the waist. Sam grimaced in pain at the pressure on his injured ribs, but said nothing.  
  
The winds continued to rise and soon little was visible through the opaque curtain of blowing rain. It was almost as dark as night. The horses were stumbling and their riders were fighting to keep the terrified creatures under control. Sam kept his eyes tightly closed, praying that he and Sayeed would make it through the storm in one piece. Suddenly, he heard Sayeed curse. Sam's eyes snapped open and he gasped in horror. The horse ahead of them was already up to its belly in water and struggling to keep its feet. The river was rising! Sam knew that in this narrow gorge, even a small amount of rain could be enough to create a cataclysmic flash flood, killing them all. The water was rising rapidly and increasing in speed. As Sam watched, one rider after another was swept away when their horses finally lost solid footing. The screams of the terrified beasts filled Sam with a fear he hadn't felt since Moria. A moment later, his own mount slipped and he felt himself torn from Sayeed's grasp and hurled into the icy torrent.  
  
Sam was terrified of water under the most ordinary of circumstances. He couldn't swim and spent little time near any sizeable bodies of water in the Shire if he could help it. A peaceful afternoon fishing along a lazy brook was about the level of his tolerance. Now, he was fighting to get his head above the surface of the churning flood waters. For a moment, his head broke through and he gasped desperately for air, only to find himself quickly submerged again. The force of the river was so great that he could do little to save himself and hoped that if he were going to drown, it wouldn't take too long. He remembered little of that nightmarish ride down the rapids. He was able to surface often enough to keep from drowning, but he frequently found himself being battered against stones and boulders in his path. He knew that if he survived this, any healing that had been accomplished would have to start over again.  
  
It seemed like hours since he had been snatched from Sayeed's grasp and the frigid water had numbed all feeling. He had no idea how far he had traveled down the river and saw no sign of any of the others. Suddenly, he found himself thrown against a large boulder in the center of the river and wedged in a large cleft in the rock's side. The force of the rushing water held him there. He frantically gasped for breath, as his burning lungs screamed for air. His head was pounding and he felt warm blood flowing down the side of his face from a wound in his scalp. He looked wildly around for any means of escape, yet saw nothing but the rushing water all about him. He closed his eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths, fighting down the panic rising within him.  
  
"It's alright, Samwise Gamgee!" he tried to assure himself, "As long as you can stay right here in this rock, the water should go down sooner or later. I hope!" He was able to find some purchase for his feet and he felt a little more secure. He continued to search for a means of escape when he spied a dark form bobbing in the water coming straight towards him. Unthinking, he grabbed for it as it came near and with strength he didn't know he possessed pulled the form towards him. "Sayeed!" Sam cried in dismay, recognizing the face of the unconscious soldier. The young man's face was badly bruised and blood was oozing over one side. Sam pulled Sayeed closer to him, all the while fighting the determined grasp of the river. The small hobbit managed to get a grip under Sayeed's arms and using his legs as leverage pulled the sodden boy into the meager protection of the cleft. It was all he could do to hold on. Sam prayed they he would have the strength to keep them both from being carried off again and into almost certain death. 


	8. Unexpected Revelations

Chapter 8 Unexpected Revelations  
  
He was so cold. He couldn't feel his feet or his arms any longer. Sayeed was nothing but a dead weight pulling him down. Sam looked at the young man he was fighting to save. It occurred to him that as a prisoner of the Haradrim, there really was no reason he should risk his life to save one of Sauron's allies. They were going to take him off to their foreign land and either kill him or make him into a slave. Why on earth should Samwise Gamgee attempt to preserve the life of one of his enemies? But then, he remembered Sayeed's kindness and merry laugh. Maybe he was one of the "enemy" but he was also just a boy and he had been good to Sam. Plus, it wasn't in Sam's nature to let someone be harmed without trying to help. Still, no matter how good his intentions, Sam didn't think he would be able to hold on much longer. He head was pounding and he felt very dizzy. Blood was still flowing from the wound in his scalp and between that and the pouring rain, visibility was negligible. His back screamed in agony from the strain of holding onto Sayeed. His numb hands and arms were becoming harder to control. And of course, there was the cold, the pervasive, creeping cold that was taking over his entire body. He was becoming very sleepy and he thought how easy it would be to just let go. Everything would be over then and he could rest.  
  
He was fuzzily contemplating the benefits of this plan when he dimly became aware of the diminishing rainfall. The winds were also beginning to abate and the world around him came into clearer focus. The storm was ending almost as abruptly as it had started. Sam looked down at Sayeed and bit his lip in concern. The boy's face was alarmingly pale and had bluish cast to it. He was still breathing, but Sam worried about hypothermia. He knew many people who fell into rivers and lakes died not from drowning, but from the cold. It could very well be the death of them both here and now. Well, there wasn't anything more he could do at the moment except hold on and pray someone came soon.  
  
Sam was dreaming. He was remembering the heat of Mt. Doom and his master's last hours in Mordor. He was chasing Gollum and crying out to Master Frodo to destroy the ring. Frodo was laughing at him and claiming he, Frodo Baggins, could be the new ruler of all Middle Earth. His eyes were wild and deranged. Sam ran to him, pleading with him not to do this when Frodo grabbed Sting from Sam's grasp and thrust the bloodstained sword into Sam's chest, still laughing a savage, crazed laugh. Sam cried out in agony as the sharp pain pierced his consciousness.  
  
His eyes flew open as the cry flew from his lips. He suddenly realized someone was pulling on him. His broken ribs screamed in protest and he looked around frantically. With immense relief, he realized the captain and several of his men had created a human chain from the narrow bank of the raging river to his refuge. They were already passing Sayeed back towards shore and one of the men was working to free Sam from his cleft in the rock. "I regret if I am causing you pain," shouted the soldier over the roar of the river, "But we must get you out of here!" Sam nodded his understanding and did his best to help. However, the pain and the cold were too much for the exhausted hobbit and as the man pulled him from the rock, Sam felt himself slip into darkness once again.  
  
"What a strange dream I've had," thought Sam to himself as he slowly came back to himself. Orcs and foreign soldiers, strange creatures living under Mt. Doom, falling into a river. a river! His eyes snapped open. He could see the black sky above him frosted with silver stars and a small fire was burning nearby. He could hear low voices off to one side. On the other side, he heard someone's labored breathing. He felt very cold, but was covered with some rough fabric. His clothing was gone. He turned his head slightly and could see Sayeed's pale face beside him. He looked the other way and saw several men sitting nearby, speaking quietly to each other. One looked up as he noticed Sam's movements. The man gracefully rose to his feet and silently made his way to Sam's side. He lowered himself to the ground and looked thoughtfully down at the prostrate hobbit. It was Captain Fahim.  
  
"Well, Samwise Gamgee," he said solemnly, "You survived your voyage down the river. Few of us did." He looked over at the sleeping boy then again at Sam. "We are in your debt for saving the life of Sayeed."  
  
Sam could feel himself blushing. "Well Sir," he rasped, "I couldn't rightly let 'im drown, now could I? He's been so kind to me and all. I owed 'im that much." Sam was then racked by chills and a painful fit of coughing. When it passed, he lay back, spent and weak. The Captain gently lifted Sam's head and gave him some water.  
  
"You have been very lucky so far, Master Hobbit. It greatly amazes me that you are still alive." He smiled gently and shook his head, "But for you, the Emperor would have lost his only son."  
  
Sam stared in confusion at the Captain. "The emperor's son?" he whispered. He looked over at Sayeed, his eyes wide. "Sayeed is a prince!?"  
  
The captain nodded as reached over to adjust the cloak covering the unconscious boy. "Yes. In our land, the emperor sends his son out as a common soldier to learn the ways of war. He is given no special treatment and must earn his rank as any ordinary solider would. Although, it is expected that we bring him back alive. Anyone who saves a member of the Royal Family is given great honor." Captain Fahim leaned back against a rock and studied the fire thoughtfully. "We have lost our horses and most of our supplies. Only eight of us have survived, that I know of. The journey home will be most difficult bearing one injured member, without having to spare a man to watch over a prisoner." He paused. "I cannot reward you with any great honors for saving our prince, Samwise Gamgee, but I can reward you with your freedom."  
  
Sam was in shock. First he finds that his young guard was the Crown Prince of Harad and now the captain offers him his freedom. Maybe he could make it home! "I.I thank you, Captain, sir. I would surely love to go home to the Shire and see Rosie and the Gaffer and all." And maybe find Frodo, he thought.  
  
The weary captain smiled again. "We will camp here for a day or so to look for our lost companions and to allow Sayeed time to recover. I invite you to remain as our guest. You are not well and I am loathe to simply abandon you to your fate without providing you with what little aid I can. Your clothes will be dry soon. In the meantime, I suggest you rest. The journey to Minas Tirith is very long indeed. Perhaps as many as 200 miles." He eyed Sam thoughtfully, "I am not sure I do you any great favor by freeing you." With that, Fahim got to his feet and rejoined his men.  
  
Well, this was certainly unexpected, Sam thought to himself, and definitely one for the fire side. A prince! And he, Samwise Gamgee, humble gardener from Bagshot Row, saved his life! Then his heart sank. Two hundred miles to Minas Tirith! How could he ever travel that far in his condition and with no supplies? He was beginning to think that the Shire was nothing more than a dream and he was doomed to spend the rest of his life wandering the wastelands of Middle Earth. He sighed sadly and soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep. 


	9. The Crossings of Poros

Chapter 9 Crossings of Poros  
  
For two days, the Haradrim remained by the river. In that time, the flood waters receded and the way became passable again. Two more men were found alive and three of the horses. The rest were presumed lost. They were at the foot of the mountains, on the edge of the southern region of Ithlien. A few of the men spent their time hunting and fishing and were able to provide at least a couple of meager meals during their stay.  
  
Sayeed woke up the second day and despite some broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and a mild concussion, his spirits seemed little affected by his near death experience. He was, however, now Sam's constant companion and protector. "In our country," he told Sam, "If someone saves your life, you are his to command until the debt is repaid." This probably disturbed Sam as much as anything he had experienced thus far in his travels.  
  
"Oh no, your Highness!" he protested worriedly, "I'm just a simple gardener! You don't need to be putting yourself out for the likes o' me! I just did what anyone would have done! All I want now is to go home to th' Shire and find some peace and since the Captain says I'm free now, that's what I aim to do!"  
  
Sayeed nodded his understanding, but stayed by Sam's side. Sam's health was still poor. He had developed a very bad cold from his watery adventure and was in a good deal of pain from his new and old injuries. He leaned back wearily after a bout of coughing, feeling angry and frustrated. "Back home, I was the healthiest hobbit you'd ever want to meet!" he grumbled, "Now, with one thing and another, I seem to be the sickliest one! Somethin's always hurting. I'm right tired of it!"  
  
Sayeed did his best to help his friend, but with the healer, Takir, among the missing, there was little he could do. On the second day, the Captain announced that they would be leaving the following morning. He told Sam that he was welcome to travel with them to the Crossings of Poros. There, they would take the Harad Road to the south, and he could head either west or north, to start his journey to Minas Tirith. Captain Fahim sat down and unfolded a leather map. He pointed to the Crossings on the map.  
  
"Here," he told Sam, "The road goes three ways. My men and I will go to the south, towards home. You, however, must make a choice. You can go straight north towards Osgiliath and then head west towards Minas Tirith, or you can head west first and then north." He studied the map thoughtfully. "If you take the northern route, it is longer, but you may meet some of the armies of the West who can help you. The western route is somewhat shorter, but you are less likely to find any assistance. Few people live in this region, I am told."  
  
Sam sighed glumly. He had no head for maps. Mr. Frodo was good at that sort of thing, not him. However, it wasn't hopeless if all he had to do was follow the road, no matter what direction. He thought about what the captain had said, and after looking at the map himself for a bit, he thought following the road that ran north, parallel to the mountains might be the best route for him. It would eventually him to the part of Ithilien where he and Frodo had met Captain Faramir. Maybe the captain would still be there. That was an encouraging thought. He was pinning all his hopes on Boromir's brother.  
  
Sam sat back and looked at the Haradrim captain. "I guess the northern route would best suit my purposes. At least if I always keep th' mountains to my right, I know I'm heading in th' right direction!"  
  
The captain nodded and folded his map. "We will leave tomorrow morning at first light. As we will have walk now, it will probably take us three days to reach the Crossings of Poros. However, you and Sayeed will ride." With that, he turned and left.  
  
The next morning was cool and misty. It didn't take long for the men to pack up their few possessions and settle Sayeed and Sam on one of the remaining horses. The river had returned to its normal levels, so there was plenty of room along the banks for the travelers. Sam was still ill, his fever still making him miserable. He huddled into his cloak and leaned against Sayeed in a drowsy stupor. He was dreaming of home and Rosie and of Mr. Frodo. How he missed them all.  
  
The journey to the Crossings of Poros was uneventful. Sam slept most of the way and by the third day was feeling more like himself again. "I believe your cold has improved, Samwise," observed Sayeed as they rode along. "How do you feel?"  
  
Sam thought about this for a moment. "Well, things don't hurt as much, which is good and I'm startin' to be able to breathe again! I think it'll be a good long while before I'm up to snuff, but I'm feelin' better than I have since Mr. Frodo and I reached Mt. Doom. Some rest and good Shire food would set me to rights in no time. But, I'm guessin' that's still a long time away."  
  
Sayeed laughed. "Yes, I too miss my home and good food! I do not believe I would choose a solider's life unless I had no other choice." Sam agreed wholeheartedly. He then thought he would miss this young man when it came time to part.  
  
The terrain had changed dramatically from the wastelands of Mordor. The river was now bordered by rolling hills, covered with high grasses and occasional stands of trees. Sam remembered that farther north, where he and Frodo had traveled, there were more forests. This was more open and dry, but still a refreshing change. Just being away from Mordor had made Sam feel better.  
  
They reached the ford in late afternoon. The road to Harad was visible to the south. It looked well traveled. "We will camp here for the night," announced Captain Fahim, "And continue on our way in the morning." As they were making camp, one of the two scouts the Captain had sent out came galloping in the from the north. He pulled his horse to a stop and leaped to the ground, hurrying over the captain.  
  
"Sir!" he panted, wiping the sweat from his eyes, "A large troop of our soldiers is nearly upon us! They are returning from battles in the north. They will be here within the hour."  
  
The captain stared at the ground, deep in thought. "You are sure of this?"  
  
"Yes, sir. The banner was that of the Emperor's 14th. It looked as if they had sustained heavy losses, but they were well organized. Their officers must have survived."  
  
"Alright," sighed the Captain, "We will wait here for them and join them for the journey home. War Master Saharani was in command of the 14th. He is a good solider. I hope he is still in charge."  
  
So, they waited. It wasn't long before they could hear the deep drumming sound of numerous marching feet. Dust could be seen rising in the north as the troop approached. The Captain and his men rose to their feet as the first soldiers appeared over the crest of the hill. A rider detached himself from the troop and rode up to the small group.  
  
"His excellency, Battle Master Penghatsut Perang, commands you to identify yourselves." The rider's battle-scarred armor was covered with dust and mud. He looked exhausted, but eyed them suspiciously.  
  
The captain stepped forward. "I am Captain Fahim, lately in command of the Emperor's Mounted 5th. This is all that remains of my command. I request permission to approach the Battle Master."  
  
The rider nodded and surveyed the small group in front of him. His eyes widened in surprise when he came upon the injured Sayeed, sitting on the ground. "The prince travels with you?" he demanded. Then, his attention was caught by the small hobbit standing next to the prince. The rider frowned, "What is that strange creature there? Is he your prisoner?"  
  
"Yes, the prince is under my command," Captain Fahim replied patiently, "He was injured in a flood, but will recover. The small creature is called a 'hobbit' and his name is Samwise Gamgee. He saved the prince's life and so we are releasing him." Sam was relieved that the captain refrained from mentioning his part in the destruction of the Ring.  
  
The rider continued to frown at Sam, then turned to the Captain. "I think you had better come with me." Captain Fahim took his scout's horse and followed the rider back to the column. 


	10. Frodo

Author's Note: The story of Lord of the Rings and its characters are still the property and creation of J.R.R. Tolkien.  
  
This is just a short chapter. I thought we should check in on poor Frodo again and see how he's doing.  
  
I want to thank again, all the kind people who have taken the time to write reviews. I would keep posting this story without them, but it is encouraging to know that people are enjoying the story!  
  
Aly, Amrun and Kay: Thanks for all the great support! Yeah, poor Sam does suffer, but I personally never felt like he got enough suffering-time compared to say, Frodo! He deserves his own litany of misery and woe! I've never written a story like this, but it's been a lot of fun although, maybe next time (assuming there is a next time), I'll let Sam have more company.  
  
Merimas Gamgee: Hmmm. Blue istari. I really don't know anything about them and so I will say, unfortunately they don't factor into this story. But maybe something in the future? Something I should look into. Thanks!  
  
Senni , Actia, TTurtle and Bronwyn: Thanks for your wonderful support (I hope you're still reading!). Don't worry, Sam won't permanently lose Lady Galdriel's gifts (although he currently doesn't have them).  
  
Chapter 10 Frodo  
  
In the fair city of Minas Tirith, great celebrations had begun. Elessar had just been crowned the new kind of Gondor and all the city was rejoicing. Many long years of war had been a difficult burden for the people of Gondor to bear and now, for the first time in recent memory, there was a true cause for celebration. That night, a great feast was held in the King's honor and all the surviving members of the Fellowship had places of honor at the king's table. Frodo sat at the king's right. Merry and Pippin were rapturously discussing the amazing amounts of food being piled high in front of them and Legolas and Gimli were discussing the future of Gondor. Frodo looked at his dearest friends and smiled. Merry and Pippin could never be unhappy when vast quantities of food were to be had! Frodo gazed around the hall. Legolas was resplendent in rich fabrics of deepest forest green. Many of the maidens in the room were eyeing him appreciatively. Next to him, sat Gimli the dwarf, also dressed in his finest. Frodo looked at his own and his cousins' clothing and shook his head in amusement. Such expensive clothes were hardly in his taste. He preferred the simple, more comfortable attire common to the Shire. Wouldn't Sam laugh to see them all dressed up so magnificently! He wondered if they would have been able to convince the humble gardener to even don such an extravagant outfit.  
  
Frodo sighed sadly. He still deeply missed his friend. This had been a day he would never forget and knew Sam would have been amazed to find that Strider, that suspicious looking fellow they had met up with in Bree, had just been crowned the new king of Gondor! Frodo smiled remembering how Sam had come to his defense when he thought Stider meant him harm. Sam would have died trying to defend his friend and master, Frodo Baggins. Frodo felt tears start in his eyes. Sam had died for him. "This will never do!" he scolded himself as we wiped the moisture from his eyes. "I promised myself I would try and have a good time this evening and I mustn't start getting depressed thinking about Sam!"  
  
Merry looked over and saw the sadness on Frodo's face and nudged his cousin. "He's thinkin' about Sam again!" he whispered to Pippin.  
  
Pippin looked up from the joint of lamb he had been working on and glanced down the table at Frodo, then back to Merry. "Well, do something!" he hissed. "Distract him! Make him talk about something else!"  
  
Merry nodded and was just about to say something to Frodo when the music started. "Look Frodo!" he said in relief, "The entertainment is about to start!" Frodo looked up with some interest as the minstrel and several musicians came to the front and began to perform. They told of a story of a beautiful Elf maiden that had been captured by a great dragon and of a brave knight who rescued her. It was a well-known story, to be sure, but the minstrel had added many songs and music and it provided excellent entertainment. Frodo remembered Bilbo telling him a version of this tale when he was a small hobbit. Later, he could recall telling the same story to Sam who had been entranced. Sam did love a good story and the more elves in it the better!  
  
Soon after that tale, the minstrel began to tell the story of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom. The audience cheered enthusiastically, but Frodo felt numb. His memory's eye went back to those dark days in Mordor; the horror in the Crack of Doom, Gollum, the Nazgul, the loss of Sam. He closed his eyes against the tears. He knew everyone was looking at him. He felt Aragorn lean close to him and whisper, "Do you want me to stop him?" Frodo shook his head and opened his eyes. He was wrong. Everyone was enraptured by the minstrel's performance. Most had forgotten Frodo was even in the room.  
  
Frodo turned to the King. "I... I think I'll go out for some air," he stammered and without a backward look, he hurried from the room. His friends sadly watched him go. Frodo made his way out of the banquet hall into a smaller adjacent room. He spied a set of doors opening to the outside and he disconsolately wandered out onto the balcony.  
  
He looked out over the beautiful White City. He could see many fires burning and music and voices raised in song. Everyone was rejoicing. Everyone but him. "No, that's not quite right", thought Frodo. "I am happy for Aragorn. He will be a marvelous king. I just miss Sam so much! I know I need to move on, but it's just so hard. No one here truly understands what I went through. Only Sam did. Only Sam." He sighed deeply. A part of him kept expecting to turn around and see Sam there, laughing or eating or simply smoking his pipeweed. Many a time, Frodo had looked up when a door opened knowing that he would see Sam walking through. One night, he had dreamt that he saw Sam riding a big black horse right to the gates of Minas Tirith and he, Frodo, had been there to greet him. When Frodo woke that morning, he stood for several hours on the wall overlooking the city gates, watching vainly for his friend. A part of him simply could not except Sam's death and was making it hard for him to move on.  
  
Frodo leaned out on the balcony wall and looked at the glittering stars overhead. "Samwise Gamgee," he whispered, "I'm thinking about you, wherever you are! I'll never forget what you did for me. Never!" He wiped the tears from his face, straightened up, and with a last look upward, headed back to rejoin his friends. 


	11. The Battle Master

Author's Note: Thanks again to all reviewers for the great support!  
  
Chapter 11 The Battle Master  
  
Sam and Sayeed sat close together watching apprehensively as the captain walked off. "I am worried," whispered Sayeed to Sam. "I have heard of this Battle Master. He is a hard man and not known for his compassion. The War Master must have been killed or captured if Perang is in command." He looked worriedly at the hobbit beside him. "Captain Fahim will be duty-bound to tell the Battle Master of your role in the Ring's destruction. I do not think Perang will let you go."  
  
Sam bit his lip and stared at his friend. "Can he do that?" he gasped in dismay. Here he was, all set to head home and now he might become a prisoner again.  
  
"Oh yes," Sayeed assured him. "The Battle Master outranks the captain and can do whatever he desires. The captain will have no choice but to obey him. He may not like it, but he must do his duty. If you are to become a prisoner again, I will use what little influence I have with my father to have you freed. I won't let them torture or kill you!"  
  
Sam could feel all the color draining from his face. This was getting worse and worse! It was bad enough to talk about being a prisoner, but once you started throwing in torture and death, well, that was something else all together! He began to unobtrusively look around for a possible means of escape when he felt Sayeed's hand tighten on his arm. Sam looked up and saw Captain Fahim and two soldiers walking towards them. The captain looked very grim.  
  
He stopped before the apprehensive hobbit and looked down. "Master Samwise, the Battle Master wishes to meet you. You must come with me now." He then looked over at Sayeed. "The troop healer will be here momentarily to tend to you. You will travel in his care from now on. You are no longer under my command."  
  
Sayeed's mouth opened in dismay, but he knew it was not his place to say anything. He simply nodded and watched anxiously as Sam was led away.  
  
Sam had to hurry to keep up with the long strides of the men. He could tell the Captain was angry, although the tall rider said nothing. It was all written there in the tightness of his jaw and his clenched fists. Sam was feeling more alarmed every minute. It wasn't long until they came to where the Battle Master's tent had been erected. The tent was an elaborate affair, brightly colored and sporting a number of red and black pennants.  
  
As soon as they arrived, Sam and Captain Fahim were conducted inside to the cool, dark interior of the tent. The Battle Master was sitting at a small but elegant camp table made of a luminous dark wood. He looked up as they entered. Sam felt his stomach drop at the sight of this man. He had a dark, swarthy look with small glittering eyes and a thin, cruel mouth. His sleek black hair lay slicked back on his skull, leading to a long pony tail flowing down his broad back. A livid scar crossed from just under his right eye across to below the left corner of his mouth. It gave his gaunt face a twisted look. There was neither humor nor kindness in him. This was a man who looked like he enjoyed inflicting pain and death upon his enemies.  
  
The Battle Master stared at Sam as he stood before him. Sam was shaking with fear, but doing his best to look brave. The man stood and slowly walked around the quaking hobbit, looking him up and down in fascination. He had never seen anything in his life like this miniature man. The Battle Master considered himself something of a scientist and he was thinking about ways he could study this strange creature. Sam would not have found any of them pleasant. Finally, the Battle Master stopped his legs wide, his hands behind him. "So, you are a "hobbit" or a Halfling?" he asked in a surprisingly soft voice.  
  
"Um, yes sir," gulped Sam. "My name is Samwise Gamgee."  
  
"Yes, so I have heard," replied the Battle Master thoughtfully, "And I also understand you were involved in the destruction of the One Ring, were you not?"  
  
Sam nodded, but said no more. The man continued to study him, his eyes never shifting away. "You destroyed the Ring," Perang went on, "Which put an end to all of our hopes and plans. Lord Sauron had promised the Emperor dominion over all of Ithilien and Gondor in payment for his support. But, you destroyed the Ring, which destroyed Sauron, and thus destroyed everything we had worked and died for. For that, you should die." Sam's eyes went wide in horror as he stumbled backwards in panic. He bumped into a soldier who held him in place. The Battle Master never moved. "And yet." the Battle Master tilted his head to one side, as if puzzled, "You risked your life to save that of the Crown Prince. How odd. Why would you risk your life to save your enemy? Captain Fahim says that as a reward, he has spared your life and given you your freedom." Perang's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Maybe you pushed the prince in so that you could rescue him and be the hero, hmm?"  
  
Sam began to sputter in indignation. "Now, just a minute, Mr. Battle Master, sir, I fell in first! That river was high and fast and there was no way them horses could keep their feet! I didn't even know who it was I grabbed when I was stuck in that rock, but it's not in my nature to let someone drown! Maybe people don't care where you come from, but in the Shire, we try to help each other!" He stood there glaring at the amused soldier.  
  
"Well, Master Hobbit, you have spirit, I grant you that. I just find it difficult to imagine why you would rescue one of your enemies. But, no matter. Now, the dilemma is what is to be done with you? Captain Fahim says I should release you, but what would the Emperor say if he found out I had had one of those responsible for the downfall of his plans and let him get away? I believe that the Emperor would be most displeased." Perang turned and leisurely returned to his seat, studying the hobbit all the while. "I am sorry, Samwise Gamgee, but you must remain our prisoner. I shall take you to the Emperor and he can decide how to reward you for saving the life of his son. Or." and here the Battle Master gave a small, cynical smile, "He can decide how to punish you for destroying his plans." He gave a small signal to the two soldiers standing near the tent door. "You will go with these soldiers. If you attempt to escape, you will be killed immediately. If you behave yourself, the trip may not prove too uncomfortable." With that, the Battle Master returned to the papers on his table, dismissing them.  
  
The captain was furious. He stalked out of the tent ahead of Sam and his escorts, but turned abruptly as soon as they had cleared the tent. "I beg you to forgive me for not being able to keep my promise, Master Gamgee," he growled through clenched teeth. "Unfortunately, I have my duty to perform and cannot go against the orders of my superior officer. I will do what I can when we reach the Emperor's palace at Haradirith, our capital city. I do not know how the Emperor will react in this situation, but if it is my power to secure your freedom, I will do so. But now, I must bid you farewell and see to my men." He bowed to Sam, turned on his heel and disappeared into the darkness. Sam felt very alone.  
  
The Battle Master's troop consisted of two or three hundred men, and they had spread out on either side of the river to bed down for the night. Sam's guards led him to a tree in the center of the camp, forced him to the ground and bound him with his back to the tree. They weren't taking any chances on him escaping in the night. One stayed near Sam while the other went off to collect their rations. Sam received nothing.  
  
It was a long, miserable journey for Sam. He was kept apart from any of the survivors of Captain Fahim's company, including the prince. He was forced to march along with the men and found it extremely difficult to keep up. He was still weakened from his recent misadventures, but even under normal circumstances he would have had trouble. The men marched along at a good pace and Sam practically had to run to keep up with them at times. Several times he simply collapsed, unable to keep up. In that case, one of his guards would roughly yank him from the ground and carry him over his shoulder until he felt Sam could continue. The Battle Master would brook no delay. Each evening, at the end of the march, Sam would collapse to the ground, barely conscious. His captors would feed him a meager meal, then tie him up for the night. He wondered if he would even survive long enough to even meet this Emperor. "If I die out here on the road, it would save them the trouble of having me executed," he muttered to himself in despair.  
  
It took them two weeks of forced marching to finally reach the city of Haradirith. It sat high on a mesa in the middle of the arid lands of Far Harad. It had a commanding view for miles and was considered impenetrable. There was only one way up and that was a narrow road that circled the mesa's cliff walls. Large gates barred the road both at the base and at the top and were heavily guarded. The Emperor trusted no one.  
  
The weary soldiers made the final climb along the road hoping to reach home before night. They were all exhausted and dispirited. This had not turned out the way anyone had hoped and many of the soldiers eyed Sam with growing bitterness. They had learned of his role in the downfall of Sauron and a number of the men would have preferred to take their vengeance immediately. Only the fact that he had saved Prince Sayeed prevented them from doing so.  
  
When they reached the city, the men were ordered to return to their barracks. The Battle Master and Captain Fahim headed towards the Emperor's palace with Sam and his guards in tow. Now was the hour of reckoning.  
  
The palace was a massive stone structure sitting atop the highest point of the mesa, like a huge hulking beast overseeing its domain. It was constructed of sand colored stones and towered over every other building in the city. Sam and his captors were quickly granted entrance to the palace and led through an expansive courtyard into a small antechamber to await their summons to the Emperor's presence.  
  
To Sam, the wait seemed stretch out for hours, but probably wasn't any more than thirty minutes. When the call came, the small party followed two guards down long corridors with walls adorned with portraits. Sam assumed they must be past Emperors and their families. Finally, they came to a massive door guarded by several more guards as well as large, wolf-like beasts. These peered at Sam with hungry, red eyes. He felt a cold chill run up his back as he passed them. One of the guards announced them, and Sam followed the Battle Master and the Captain into the audience chamber.  
  
The Emperor sat high upon a gilded throne. Like his palace, it was built to tower over everything in the room. The room was not huge, but spacious. The ceiling rose high above the polished black marble floor and was criss-crossed with gleaming, dark beams. The walls were dressed with numerous banners, most of which were red and black in color. When they reached the center of the room, Sam and his guards stopped, while the two officers went on to confer with the Emperor.  
  
Sam studied the Emperor as he waited. He seemed to be a tall man, with a thin, vulture-like face. His long black hair flowed over his back and shoulders and was kept in place by a golden circlet, studded with rubies. He wore an elaborate gown of black and gold. Sam could see the Emperor wore a number of rings bearing massive gems. Suddenly, he found himself meeting the small, cold eyes of the man on the throne, and Sam felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. These were not the eyes of a kind or understanding man. Sam's hope of returning home anytime soon quickly dissipated.  
  
At an unseen signal, the guards grabbed Sam by the arms and marched him up to the dais. The Battle Master and captain stepped aside. Sam glanced over at them and bit his lip in dismay. Captain Fahim looked angry, while the Battle Master had a most self-satisfied look. Sam knew that was bad. He turned his attention to the Emperor.  
  
"So," began the Emperor, his deep voice resonating in Sam's ears. "You are the Halfling that helped destroyed Lord Sauron?" Sam gulped nervously and nodded. Emperor Assadim's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Do you have any idea of what you have done to me? Lord Sauron promised me dominion over all Ithilien and Gondor and the riches they contain. My son would have ruled those lands. In addition, many of my men were killed. My armies return in bits and pieces, shattered by the armies of the West. And it is all because of you!"  
  
Sam stared at the Emperor, fear continuing to grow. This was getting worse and worse. He thought about mentioning that he was just Frodo's companion, but he didn't think the Emperor would care. Sam was the one who was here, not Frodo. Sam would be the one to suffer Assadim's wrath.  
  
The Emperor studied Sam thoughtfully, playing with an especially large ruby ring. "But, on the other hand, you saved my son, Sayeed. That should count for something in your favor, hmmm? But, does it outweigh the destruction of my plans and future of Harad? I do not think so, or at least not completely. So, what should I do with you, Samwise Gamgee of the Shire? Captain Fahim would have me release you and allow you to go home. Battle Master Perang would have you publicly tortured and executed." Sam felt faint. Emperor Assadim smiled. "I think perhaps something in between. Because you did save my son, I will spare your life, but in punishment for your part in the Ring's destruction, you shall become our slave. The life of a slave in Harad is not a pleasant one, Master Gamgee. You may eventually wish that perhaps I had listened to the Battle Master."  
  
With that, the interview was over. Sam was led away and his new of life as a slave of the Haradrim was about to begin. 


	12. The Life of a Slave

Author's note: Just wanted to comment on my "quick" updates! I decided back when I started this that I wouldn't start posting the story until it was almost done. It drives me nuts to start reading a wonderful story that never gets finished, and I didn't want to do that. I know life gets in the way of writing, not to mention writer's block, but I figured it was better to experience those before I started posting than in the midst of it! Thanks again for your support!  
  
Chapter 12 The Life of a Slave  
  
It was a miserable life. The royal slaves were kept in the lowest basements of the palace. It was dark and dank; the air fetid. Each night, Sam and the others were chained to the walls and left until morning. They were fed little and beaten often. Most were ill and emaciated. Sam hardly looked any different from the rest of them. After his weeks on the road since the fall of Sauron, he looked nothing like the sturdy hobbit that first left the Shire so long ago. He doubted if even his Gaffer would recognize him now.  
  
The slaves were given the hardest work; from digging salt in the burning salt flats of the south to chopping down massive trees in the north. Because he was a novelty in Harad, sometimes the Emperor would have Sam brought to one of his balls or gatherings. His favorite use for Sam in these cases was to strap a tray to his head and use him as a table to hold hors d'oerves. Sam was thoroughly humiliated by this treatment, but at least it provided a respite from the grueling physical labor.  
  
None of the slaves lasted very long in this place. Sam collapsed each night in utter exhaustion. He had been there only a few weeks and already his meager resources were almost depleted. He hadn't been very strong to begin with, and the hard, unrelenting punishment was taking its toll. He was coughing again and none of his injuries had healed completely due to his malnourishment. But, he knew if he couldn't keep up, he would be killed. Any slave that couldn't complete his duties was summarily executed and dumped in a pit in the basement.  
  
"I don't know how I'll ever survive this, Mr. Frodo," he gasped to himself as he dug in the salt. He often talked to Frodo. It helped to comfort him in this unforgiving place. Sam's face was crusted with white crystals of salt and it coated his nose and mouth. He had a cloth tied over his face, but it did little to protect him. The sun was blazing down on the slaves and several had already collapsed from heat and dehydration. The overseers stood unconcerned, relaxing under the shade of a canopy erected for their protection. They hardly worried about the slaves trying to escape in this inhospitable place. Any slaves that collapsed were simply left where they had fallen, providing nourishment for the scavenging birds of the area. Sam prayed he would survive this last day. If he did, it would be the end of his two week rotation and he and the others would return to the city.  
  
When the sun finally began to sink low into the west, the slaves were gathered together for the long march back to the city. Ten of their number were left to rot on the salt flats. Several more would be lost on the two day march back. Sam knew that if he had to return to the scorching flats any time soon, he would be one of them.  
  
They reached the city in the late afternoon. As the slaves and their overseers made their way up the steep hill to the gates, a horn blasted to their rear, warning them to get out of the way. Sam pressed himself against the wall of the mountain and looked on in amazement as a number of men rode past. The clothing they wore looked just like those worn by the Captain Faramir and his men. Could these be men from Gondor? He watched longingly as the riders disappeared up the hill. With a weary sigh, he prepared to follow.  
  
The men reached the city gates long before the woebegone creatures they had passed on the road. These were emissaries from the new ruler of Gondor, King Elessar, who wished to make peace with the kingdom of Harad. One of the men, a tall, dark man, a ranger in his usual life, was frowning. He couldn't help but notice the unusually small slave in the line they had passed. There was something oddly familiar about him. One of his companions noticed his bemused expression. "Is there something wrong, Damrod?"  
  
"I do not know," Damrod replied slowly. "Did you happen to notice the small creature among the slaves we passed on the road?"  
  
His companion thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I do not remember. I was not looking at them as we passed."  
  
Damrod continued to think. "He looked somewhat familiar to me. I do not know why, but I would like a better look at that slave. I think I will wait here by the gate for them to pass. Tell Lord Benar I will meet up with you at the palace." The other man nodded and rode on.  
  
Damrod positioned his horse off to the side of the gate and waited. He decided he would do whatever was necessary to ease his curiosity. He didn't have to wait long before the first of the exhausted slaves made their way through the gate led by one of the overseers riding a large, brown horse. Damrod continued to watch until the small creature he had seen huddled against the cliff face stumbled through the gate. He stared intently and then it dawned on him. It was a hobbit! The large, furry feet and small stature left no doubt in his mind. He had been with Captain Faramir in Ithilien when they had captured the Ring Bearer, Frodo Baggins and his companion, Samwise Gamgee, the gardener. As everyone knew, Frodo had been rescued from the very foot of Mt. Doom seconds before it exploded, but Sam had not been so lucky. He had died in that blast. Damrod frowned, or had he?  
  
His eyes followed the hobbit as he slowly made his way up the street. Damrod tried to picture Sam as he remembered him in Ithilien, but it was hard to match this haggard, wasted figure with the sturdy hobbit of his memory. As the hobbit approached, Damrod stepped forward and quietly called, "Sam!" Startled, the hobbit's head snapped up. Almost immediately, his eyes met those of Damrod's and for a mere instant he froze in recognition. It was Sam! Sam's mouth opened in surprise but kept on moving, the overseer's whip saw to that, but his eyes pleaded for help.  
  
Damrod stood watching as Sam and the other slaves continued towards the palace. If it was indeed Samwise Gamgee, the missing hobbit, then he had to find some way to rescue him. By the looks of him, it would have to be soon. 


	13. Searching for Sam

Author's Note: Hello Minty! I couldn't seem to find your email address to let you know I had another story going. Sorry. Thanks for the wonderful review!  
  
Also, thanks again to Actias, Amrun, Kay, Irish Flying Fish (love that name!), Senni, Aemelia, and Samwise the Strong. I really am having a great time with story and your terrific support has been wonderful! I really appreciate you taking the time to review. (  
  
Chapter 13 Searching for Sam  
  
Damrod rode slowly towards the palace deep in thought. He was part of an envoy from King Elessar and as such had to be very careful about what he did. His first responsibility was to the mission. On the other hand, he couldn't allow one of the heroes of Middle Earth to rot as a slave in this foreign land. There must be some way to rescue Sam without endangering their mission for peace.  
  
He left his horse with a groom and entered the castle looking for his companions. They had been housed in the western wing of the palace in a suite of rooms overlooking the courtyard. His friend, Mablung awaited him, a tankard of ale in his hand. "There you are, Damrod!" he called in greeting. "Where have you been? Did you find out more concerning your little slave?"  
  
Damrod hurried over and sat at the table next to his friend. Their hosts had provided a wide variety of food and drink for their travel-weary guests. "Mablung," Damrod said urgently, "Do you remember when we captured the two hobbits in Ithilien? Frodo and his companion, Samwise Gamgee?"  
  
Mablung stared at his fellow ranger in confusion, "Yes," he replied slowly, "Frodo carried the Ring to Mt. Doom, but Samwise never returned. What of it?"  
  
Damrod grabbed Mablung's arm in excitement, "I believe the slave I saw to be a Hobbit and that the Hobbit is none other than Samwise Gamgee! I called to him as he passed and he recognized me! Granted, he hardly looks as I remember Sam from Ithilien, but I am positive it is he!"  
  
Mablung sat back, blinking in surprise. "Can it be true? Mithrandir reported seeing Sam disappear in the last explosion on Mt. Doom. How could a hobbit have gotten all the way here? And if it is Samwise, what are we to do? We cannot endanger our mission, yet at the same time, we cannot leave him here!"  
  
Damrod stood up and began pacing the room. "I think we must do some scouting around. See what we can find out about the slaves and perhaps how a Hobbit came to be in their number. We cannot show too much interest in Sam in particular or it may go badly for him. If Emperor Assadim knows of Sam's role in the destruction of the Ring, he may be loathe to release him to us."  
  
Mablung nodded in agreement. "I fear that may be the case." He took a deep swig of his ale, watching his friend thoughtfully.  
  
Damrod continued urgently, "But, we must move quickly. Sam looks very poorly and I do not believe he will be able survive such hardships much longer. A man in the street told me that Sam and the others had just returned from two weeks working in the salt flats several days south of here. He said that half the slaves that go there never come back. Those that do return are hardly fit for the harsh labors they must continue to perform here in the city. Most of these die within six months. I do not believe Sam will last even one."  
  
The two men felt it would best to keep their secret between just the two of them for the time being, at least until they found out more. Their primary duties concerning the diplomatic mission involved guiding the emissary to Hardirith and providing the party with protection. The emissary, Lord Benar, had long been an important figure in the city of Minas Tirith and one of Lord Denethor's closest advisors. King Elessar believed he would be a good emissary to meet with the Emperor of Harad. When Damrod and Mablung were not needed for official duties, the companions spent their time scouting around the palace, casually asking questions, trying to find out more concerning the slaves of Haradirith.  
  
The two were returning from a frustrating day of searching when a young boy approached them. He was wearing the livery of an imperial houseboy and he was nervous approaching two foreigners. "Please sirs," he began in halting Westron. "My Lord, Prince Sayeed wishes to speak with you." The Rangers exchanged puzzled glances, but were agreeable to following the boy through the area of the palace reserved for the royal family. After traveling down many corridors and climbing numerous flights of stairs, they found themselves in front of an elegantly carved door. Two guards stood to either side. They eyed the two rangers suspiciously, but opened the door when the boy explained their mission.  
  
Damrod and Mablung found themselves in a large, exquisitely decorated sitting room. Rich mahogany paneling covered the walls and a large, marble fireplace stood at one end of the expansive room. Windows, from floor to ceiling extended across one end of the room and opened up onto a large balcony. A young man stood staring pensively at the fire. He looked up as the boy led the men into the room. Damrod quickly realized that the prince was little more than a boy himself, but was favorably impressed by his handsome, open face. The two Rangers bowed politely as the prince approached them. He had a pronounced limp.  
  
"Welcome, gentlemen," smiled the prince courteously, "Thank you for coming. Please, be seated. Would you care for some refreshment?" The two men declined the offer for food, but seated themselves across from the prince in two elaborately carved chairs.  
  
"How may we be of service, your Highness?" asked Damrod watching the prince. The young man seemed nervous and troubled.  
  
"My name is Prince Sayeed," began the prince, "And I would like to ask you for your assistance. Word has come to me that you have been asking questions concerning our slaves. Well, one slave in particular. A hobbit." Damrod and Mablung exchanged startled glances but said nothing. The prince continued. "I wish to help you rescue Samwise Gamgee." He looked into their surprised faces. "Yes, I know about Samwise. When my father made a pact with Lord Sauron, I rode with the Emperor's Mounted 5th, under the command of Captain Fahim. After Lord Sauron's defeat, we had been ordered to return to Harad as best we could. On our journey, we came upon a group of orcs torturing what we thought was a small child. We slew the orcs, but were surprised to find not a child, but a tiny man! He said his name was Samwise Gamgee, a hobbit from someplace called the Shire. An orc revealed to us that Samwise had been involved in the destruction of the ring. The captain took Samwise prisoner.  
  
When we crossed the Mountains of Shadow, we were caught in a flash flood. I would have drowned had not Samwise pulled me from the river and held onto me until we could be rescued. As his reward, the captain gave Sam his freedom. Unfortunately, we encountered Battle Master Perang at the Crossing of Poros and he decided Samwise must return to Harad with us. I begged my father to be merciful and to remember I owed my life to Samwise. Unfortunately, his idea of "mercy" was to spare Sam's life, but make him one of the lowest ranking slaves." Sayeed stood up and began pacing the room in agitation. "He would have been more merciful to have simply killed him outright!" he growled bitterly, "Sam had been injured many times in his journeys and was not well. I have seen him since our return and he looks worse than ever! I am forbidden to approach him or help him in any way."  
  
Sayeed stopped pacing and faced the two men. "I owe him my life! I know he destroyed my father's plans, but I have life debt to Samwise Gamgee and I will not rest until it is repaid. I want you to help me. He must be rescued and taken out of this place. Otherwise, he will soon be dead." He sat back down and stared beseechingly at the two outlanders. "Will you help me?"  
  
Damrod leaned forward, "What do you want us to do?" 


	14. Free at Last

Author's Notes: Thanks again for all the wonderful review! May be a few days before the next update as things are a bit busy right now, but hopefully not too long.  
  
Chapter 14 Free at Last  
  
Sam was still in shock. Although he couldn't recall his name, he had instantly recognized the man by the gate as one of Captain's Faramir's men. He had been the one to blindfold Sam and Frodo before taking them to the secret cave. What was he doing here? It was obvious that he had recognized Sam. He'd called his name, hadn't he? Could he possibly help Sam escape from this living hell? He sighed. It didn't seem likely. He was only one man and the Emperor wasn't going to simply hand Sam over just to be nice. But, maybe, just maybe, the man could at least get word back to Aragorn or the others and let them know that Sam was alive! That would have to do. Oddly enough, Sam didn't quite feel so alone now.  
  
Sam and the other slaves were led to their dungeon quarters and chained to the wall as usual. At least they would be allowed some rest before resuming their duties in the morning. Sam lay on his little pile of filthy straw, listening to the moans and noises of the other slaves. He was flanked by two men, one seemed to be very old, and the other a mere boy but they had never spoken. Any conversation was strictly forbidden, although many flaunted the rule to some degree. The other slaves had been fascinated by Sam when he first arrived. Hobbits were unknown here. However, some grumbled that such a small creature would not be able to keep up with the work load and they would be forced to take up the slack. Fortunately, Sam had proven his worth and his fellow slaves gave him their grudging respect.  
  
Now, Sam was pondering the possibility of escape. Would the ranger help him? He couldn't help but harbor a small flame of hope that he would get out of here alive. Samwise Gamgee was never entirely without hope, even in this foul place. He sighed wearily, burrowed himself in the straw as best he could, and almost immediately fell into an exhausted sleep.  
  
Sam was given easier duties over the next few days, much to his relief. His strength was failing fast and even the simplest chores had become difficult. He was nothing but skin and bones now and always felt ill. Yet, he knew that if he couldn't keep up, he would be killed, so he tried to ignore his pain and discomfort and do the best he could. Unfortunately, this sojourn did not last for long and one morning, Sam and his unfortunate companions were ordered to work in the forests higher in the mountains north of the city.  
  
It was difficult labor. The slaves were forced to fell large trees, chop them up and move them down to the city. Many died when they could not get out of the way of falling trees and branches. Many were injured or crippled by the unwieldy axes. Sam wasn't sure this was an improvement over the salt flats.  
  
It was the second night of their detail in the forest and everyone had settled down for the night. It was overcast and there was no moon, so the darkness was complete. The slaves were chained to individual trees to prevent them from wandering off in the darkness. Sam nestled down in the roots of a large oak trying to get comfortable. He was completely done in and was nursing a bad gash in his arm. He had lost a lot of blood and felt weak and light-headed, but had managed to keep working. Now, all he wanted to do was rest. It wasn't long before desperate sleep overcame him. It seemed he had only been asleep for a moment when he was awakened by screams of terror rending the silence of the night.  
  
He jerked awake and was alarmed by the heavy cloud of smoke that permeated the area. Fighting for breath, he struggled to his feet and looked wildly about. The other slaves were also up, anxiously calling to each other. Then, just beyond the clearing in which they stood, Sam could see the ominous glow of flames. The overseers had run toward the source of the fire, but it quickly became apparent that the fire was too big for them to handle and without a second thought, they mounted their horses and disappeared, leaving the chained slaves to their fate. The panicked slaves began yanking on their chains trying to break free. The flames were moving quickly and had already entered the edge of the clearing. Screams of pain and fear could be heard over the crackling of the raging fire.  
  
Sam was terrified. He was coughing hard and it was hard to think in all the smoke. Suddenly, he felt someone grab his chain and with a loud clank, he was free! Through tearing eyes, he saw a masked figure dressed all in dark green holding the broken end of the chain. Sam knew instantly that he must be the ranger from Ithilien. The man reached down, grabbed Sam roughly and carried him off into the woods, away from the fire. Sam was relieved to see that several other men had appeared in the clearing and were freeing the other trapped slaves. None of them deserved to die in this forsaken place. The man ran silently through the dark woods, never hesitating. Soon he came to his waiting horse. He placed Sam on the horse, leapt up behind him and in a moment they were away. Sam was free at last.  
  
The man said nothing until they had traveled for some time. When they were well away from the site of the fire, he pulled up and looked back the way they had come. They were situated atop a small hill and could see the glow of the fire a few miles behind them. The man removed his mask and looked down at the haggard hobbit seated before him. "Samwise Gamgee, I presume?" the man's smile was bright in his smoke blackened face.  
  
"Yes," croaked Sam in amazement, his throat parched and raw from the smoke. "Pardon me sir, but aren't you one of Captain Faramir's men?"  
  
The man nodded and handed Sam a canteen of water. "Yes, I am. I am pleased to see that you remember me. My name is Damrod and I was sent as part of an envoy from King Elessar to make peace with Haradrim. You can imagine my shock at seeing a hobbit here in Haradirith and a slave no less! I could think of no other hobbit, besides Samwise Gamgee, who might have ended up as a prisoner of the enemy. I made it my mission to rescue you, although, we did have help. But come, we must be away from here and put as much distance between ourselves and the city as possible. Hopefully, they will assume that all the slaves perished in the fire and no pursuit will follow." He urged his horse onward into the darkness.  
  
They rode all night and well into the day. They were in open plains now and Damrod was looking for a sheltered place for them to rest. Finally, they came to a small grove of trees surrounding a little, bubbling spring. The grove was currently abandoned, but it was obvious it had been used by travelers in the past. Damrod helped Sam down from the horse and settled him comfortably on a bed of fallen leaves. After caring for his horse, he examined and treated Sam's wounded arm. Sam lay back, pale and weary before him. Damrod wondered how the hobbit had managed as long as he had in his current condition. He hoped Sam would make it all the way to Minas Tirith.  
  
Sam slowly opened his eyes and found the ranger studying him. "Thank you, Mr. Damrod, for saving me." Sam's voice scarcely above a whisper.  
  
"You are more than welcome, Master Gamgee," replied Damrod warmly, "But, I did not do it alone. You had a well-placed friend who worked with us to rescue you."  
  
Sam thought for a moment, "Prince Sayeed?"  
  
Damrod nodded. "He contacted us when his informants told him that we were asking about a hobbit seen in the city. He was most upset that his father had enslaved rather than freed you after you had saved his life. The Prince was hoping he could still rescue you before it was too late. He arranged to have you assigned to the forest detail. My men and I started the fire to provide a diversion." Damrod laughed softly, "I did not realize it would work as well as it did. I did not expect the overseers to just abandon you all to your deaths. Now, there will many slaves for them to wonder about. Not just one!"  
  
"I had almost given up hope of ever gettin' out o' there alive," sighed Sam shaking his head in disbelief.  
  
Damrod smiled and gently patted Sam's shoulder. "You have had a cruel time of it, Master Gamgee. Now, let us eat and rest before we continue on our way. There are many in Minas Tirith who would be glad to see you alive and well." He looked down and saw that Sam had already fallen asleep. 


	15. On the Road to Minas Tirith

Chapter 15 On the Road to Minas Tirith  
  
Damrod slept little that day, but kept watch against any pursuers. Mablung would explain his absence to Lord Benar. He did not believe that would be a problem. He also hoped that no one had been hurt in the fire. As the sun began to set, Damrod looked down at his sleeping companion. Sam was lying curled on his side, his face pale and gaunt. However, he looked very peaceful. It was time to go. Damrod knelt down and gently shook the slumbering hobbit. Sam's eyes slowly opened. He frowned in confusion, trying to remember where he was. When his eyes met those of Damrod's he sighed in relief.  
  
"I was dreaming about Master Frodo," he said as he pushed himself to a sitting position. "I saw him waitin' for me atop a tall wall. He kept calling my name, telling me to hurry home." Sam shook his head at the foolish dream, then gratefully accepted the Lembas bread that Damrod offered him. He had grown very weary of the elven way bread while he and Frodo traveled through Mordor, but now it was a welcome treat. He instantly felt better.  
  
"I have something for you, Sam" said Damrod as he began digging through his saddle bags. A moment later, he turned and handed Sam an old battered pack and sword.  
  
Sam's eyes widened with surprise, then just as quickly filled with tears. "Sting!" he gasped, "And my pack!" He handled them reverently, as if they were precious heirlooms. "Where did you get them? I thought they were lost for good!"  
  
"Prince Sayeed had them and asked that I return them to you. He thought you would like them back."  
  
Sam opened the pack and was thrilled to see that its meager contents were all present and accounted for. He gently touched the Lady's gifts and smiled to himself. Then he slowly removed the flask containing the Elixir of Tidak and stared at it thoughtfully. Damrod watched him curiously. "A fellow livin' under Mt. Doom gave me this," Sam said, remembering, "It's wonderful stuff. Makes you feel better when yer hurt or sick. It kept me goin' before the orcs got me. I think it might be useful now." With that, he uncorked it and took a long swig. Damrod was surprised to see color quickly returning to Sam's face and he looked stronger. "It don't cure you," said Sam as he packed the flask away, "But it gives you strength to go about yer business." He decided against mentioning that it could make you feel worse when it wore off.  
  
Sam watched as Damrod packed up in preparation to leave. He desperately wanted to ask a question, but was mortally afraid of the answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Damrod, but can I ask you something?"  
  
Damrod turned to look at Sam. He thought he knew what the hobbit was going to ask. "You want to know about Frodo." Sam bit his lip and nodded. The hobbit felt a cold chill run through his body and he was shaking. He was absolutely terrified. Damrod sat down and laid his hand on Sam's arm. "I wish I could tell you for certain about your master," he began. "I know he was brought out of Mordor near death. He was treated by the finest healers in Gondor, including King Elessar himself, but I have not heard any more concerning his fate. Shortly after the fall of Sauron, I was sent south with the envoy. I heard of Elessar being crowned, but nothing of the Ringbearer. I am sorry I cannot tell you more. He may yet live."  
  
Sam wiped the tears from his face. Well, the news could certainly have been worse, at least Frodo was alive when he reached safety. Hopefully this King Elessar and the other healers were able to save him. Sam wondered about the others from the Fellowship: Aragorn, Pippin and Merry, Gimli and Legolas. Were any of them yet alive? Maybe if he ever reached Minas Tirith, he would learn of their fates.  
  
Damrod finished his preparations and they were soon away. He rode fast. His horse was one of the finest from Rohan, and did not tire easily. Sam frequently slept. There wasn't much else he could do. They traveled like this for several days and with each passing mile, Sam felt a certain excitement growing. He would make it home after all; home to the gaffer and Rosie and his gardens at Bag End. The thought gave him strength.  
  
They had crossed the Anduin early in the day and were traveling through the empty land of Lebennin. Damrod was on the alert as there had been many roving bands of orcs terrorizing the area when he had traveled south several weeks before. He doubted they had been rooted out yet. It would be some time before all the lands just west of Mordor were safe. They were riding fast down the road with heavy forests all around. Sam could feel Damrod's tension.  
  
"If anything happens to me," Damrod said seriously, "simply follow this road north. It will take you directly to the White City. We are not more than fifty miles away now." Sam nodded and held more tightly to the horse's saddle.  
  
It was starting to grow dark when the Uruk-hai attacked. A black-fletched arrow flew from the dark shadows of the trees striking Damrod square in the back. He grabbed Sam tightly and yelled, "Do not let go of the horse! He will take you to safety!" Sam turned in surprise and cried out as he saw Damrod slide from the horse, and collapse motionless the road behind him.  
  
"Damrod!" he yelled in shock, but this quickly turned to horror as he saw several Uruks emerge from beneath the forest canopy. Two pelted forward attempting to seize Sam and his mount. The horse sensing the evil creatures behind him , surged forward with renewed energy. Sam could do nothing but hold on for dear life, the roars of the frustrated Uruk-hai ringing in his ears.  
  
The horse ran unchecked for many miles. Sam prayed he would stop soon as he didn't know how much longer he could hold on. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the terrified hobbit, the horse gradually slowed, and then stopped. The exhausted creature's sides were heaving and he dripped sweat and foam. Sam was panting himself and scared to move. After a few minutes, he finally got up enough courage to sit upright and take stock of his situation. He was still on the road to Minas Tirith, but he wasn't sure how much farther it would be to the city. It was almost completely dark now and Sam looked anxiously at the forbidding forest on either side of the road. He knew he must get off the horse, but was afraid that orcs were near. At least on the horse, he had a chance to outrun them.  
  
However, the horse was spent and Sam knew it needed rest. He sighed then turning in the saddle, looked mournfully back the way they had come. Tears burned in his eyes and his throat tightened as he thought of the brave Damrod. The Ranger had saved his life again and now, he was gone. Sam buried his face in his hands as the grief overwhelmed him. Was death going to plague him forever? When he regained control some time later, he wiped his tears on his sleeve. He must go on he thought grimly. He loosened the saddlebags and dropped them to the ground. Once he was off the horse, he wouldn't be able to reach them. Then, he turned to the horse and said nervously, "Excuse me, Mr. Horse, I'm sorry I don't remember your name, but I'm going to slide off you now! Please don't step on me or anything!" The horse bobbed his weary head as if to say he understood, and stood quietly as Sam carefully slid off his back to the ground.  
  
Once back on solid earth, Sam gave a great sigh of relief. He walked slowly to the horse's head and gently patted his nose. "Thank you, Mr. Horse," he said gratefully, "For saving my life. I'm sorry I've nothin' for you. I don't think horses care for Lembas. I guess yer on yer own now. I hope you know yer way home." The horse nuzzled Sam softly and with a soft whinny, slowly trotted off up the road. Sam felt more alone than ever. 


	16. Pippin

Author's Note: As always, thanks so much for the great support. It's been so much fun posting this story. You guys have been great! I'm sad to say, there are only a couple more chapters left (I'm actually still writing the last one). Kind of makes me sad knowing I'm almost done. I'm glad y'all have been enjoying it!  
  
Note to Irish F.F. Sam released the horse because it was too big for him to handle. If it had been a pony, I'm sure he would have kept it, but since it was so large, once he dismounted, he could never get back on!  
  
Chapter 16 Pippin  
  
Sam spent the night burrowed in the roots of a large oak tree. He covered himself with his Lothlorien cloak and hoped that if any orcs made it this far, he would remain undetected. He couldn't help but think of Damrod. The man had gone out of his way to help him. Sam vowed he would not be forgotten.  
  
The next morning was drizzling rain. Sam ate some Lembas, drank a little of the Murok's elixir, then with renewed energy, he started on what he hoped would be the last leg of his journey. It was on the afternoon of the third day since Damrod's death that Sam finally caught his first glimpse of Minas Tirith. He had been steadily climbing when he came to a break in the trees. A wide plane opened before him and there, perched at the foot of a great mountain in the distance were the fabled seven tiers of the White City. Sam was in awe. The city seemed to glow in the golden afternoon sun and there were many pennants flying from the city's soaring spires. "That's it," whispered Sam, "The end of my journey."  
  
He felt both excitement and fear. What would he find there? Was Frodo still alive? In his heart, he believed so, but still, he was afraid. What of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, and of course, Merry and Pippin? Sam did so want to see another friendly hobbit face. He was also very weary. He had finished the last of the Elixir and felt a heavy exhaustion settle over him like a blanket of lead. Every step was more difficult than the last and he felt flushed with fever. But, it didn't matter, he told himself stoutly, he was almost there and hopefully, rest and food would put him back to rights!  
  
It was in the dark of the following evening that Sam finally found himself approaching the great city gate. He was confused, however. Outside the city were large numbers of men and even some elves. They all seemed to be in the midst of some great celebration. Sam could hear music coming from all around and he was startled by the unexpected explosions of fireworks overhead. What was going on? Many of the men eyed Sam curiously as he stumbled along towards the gates, but did not approach him. They seemed too immersed in their joyous merrymaking.  
  
There was a small door situated beside the huge iron gate of the city and this is where Sam headed. He looked around uncertainly, then knocked. After a few moments, the door swung open and a large, laughing guard peered out. "Hello there!" he called out before glancing downward and spying the small figure standing before him. "Well, I'll be!" exclaimed the guard, starting in surprise, "It's a Halfling! Look Tiril!" he called to someone behind him, "It's another of them small folk!"  
  
A second guard joined the first and shook his head in wonder. "I never would have expected to see a Halfling here! I wonder where he came from? Don't look too healthy to me!"  
  
Sam stared at them, trying to comprehend what they were saying. Finally he croaked, "You know of Halflings?"  
  
The first guard laughed again, "I should say we do! Don't we have a Halfling in the Tower guard!? Master Pippin is one of our own!"  
  
Sam felt a wave of dizziness sweep over him at the mention of Pippin's name. "Hey now, young feller!" cried the guard in concern as he steadied Sam. "I think maybe you better come in and sit down for a bit!"  
  
Sam grabbed the guard's arm urgently, "Pippin is here?"  
  
The guard looked at him in surprise, "Aye, I think he's up at the king's wedding feast. He's a special friend of the king, so was given permission to attend. Do you know Pippin, then?"  
  
"Yes! Oh yes!" cried Sam desperately, tears in his eyes, "Please, sir, could I see him? I know he'd want to see me if he knew I was here!"  
  
The first guard exchanged puzzled glances with his friend, "Well, I guess Tiril could take you up to the Citadel where they're holdin' the big feast and see if Pippin will see you."  
  
Tiril nodded his agreement and ushered the hobbit through the guard house to the streets. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked Sam worriedly.  
  
"I'll be fine," Sam assured him weakly. He knew he didn't sound convincing, but he didn't care. He had to see Pippin! They climbed through the levels of the city. There seemed to be celebrations and feasts going on everywhere. Sam recalled the guard mentioning the king's wedding and guessed the city must be toasting the king's nuptials. Sam began to feel a little apprehensive about interrupting the royal banquet. However, the need to see Pippin overcame any misgivings, so on they went. Several times Sam stumbled and would have fallen if Tiril had not kept a supporting hand on his arm.  
  
"What is your name, Master Hobbit?" enquired the man as he helped Sam along. "Where have you come from?"  
  
"My name is Samwise Gamgee," gasped Sam as they continued to climb, "And my home is in the Shire." He didn't feel up to a long explanation of where he had most recently been. He was having to focus all his of attention on just moving one foot in front of the other.  
  
At last, they reached the top level of the city where Tiril led Sam through a courtyard surrounding a beautiful fountain. Sam was so consumed by his thoughts, that he paid little heed to his surroundings. At the end of a long corridor, they reached a tall door of polished metal. Sam could hear music and happy voices beyond the door. He felt his strength beginning to fail him and Tiril grabbed his arm as Sam's knees buckled. "Whoa now!" cried Tiril, "I think perhaps we'd better find some place for you to sit and rest while I go find Pippin!" So saying, he led Sam to a small antechamber off the paved hallway. Numerous people were coming and going along the corridor and the small room offered Sam an oasis of quiet. "You wait here!" said Tiril kindly and he disappeared through the door.  
  
Tiril followed a footman carrying a large platter of food into the banquet hall. Numerous long tables had been set up around the room with musicians at one end. Many of the guests were dancing in the center. The room was full of color and excitement. The energy was almost tangible and laughter rang throughout the room. Tiril scanned the room, trying to spot Pippin in his Tower Guard uniform. At the head table sat King Elessar and his radiant bride, Arwen, along with Elrond and his sons, and Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Frodo and the remaining members of the Fellowship also had seats there. But, Pippin and Merry were not to be seen. Tiril had to weave his way through the boisterous crowd constantly keeping an eye out for the Halfling. Finally, he spotted him. He was sitting at a table surrounded by fair young women. He was in the midst of some outlandish tale and the women were laughing with delight.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Pippin," Tiril grinned, "I hate to pull you away from such a bevy of beautiful maidens, but might I have a word with you?"  
  
Pippin sighed in mock dismay, "I am sorry, ladies, but duty calls!" The women laughed again and called for him to return soon. Pippin made a courtly bow and followed Tiril to a quieter spot in the room.  
  
"What can I do for you, Tiril?" asked Pippin as he continued to smile and wave at his previous companions.  
  
Tiril gave a short laugh and shook his head in amusement. "Well," he began trying to get Pippin's attention, "There's someone here who seems most anxious to see you. A Halfling, no less."  
  
Pippin turned abruptly, frowning. "What did you say? Another hobbit?"  
  
Tiril nodded. "Yes, a scruffy looking fellow. He said his name was, um, let me think, oh yes, Samwise Gamgee. Do you know him?"  
  
Pippin stood frozen, his eyes wide. His face seemed to have lost all color. "Samwise Gamgee?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure?"  
  
Tiril began to feel some concern. "Yes," he replied slowly. "He arrived a short while ago. Frankly, I think he would have better served going to the Houses of Healing first, but he was adamant about finding you. He's in one of the antechambers outside."  
  
Pippin suddenly came to life. "Show me!" he cried urgently, grabbing Tiril's arm. "Take me to him right away!"  
  
Tiril nodded, turned, then led Pippin out through the large doors and into the corridor. He stopped in front of a small door and swung it open, standing aside to allow Pippin to enter. Pippin stepped into the room, his heart racing. His eyes fell on a cloaked figure standing alone in the center of the room. The figure turned slowly, as if the simple movement required more energy than he possessed, then gently lowered his hood. Pippin stared disbelieving at the face before him and it was a moment before he recognized the pale, emaciated figure as his lost companion, Samwise Gamgee. "Sam?" he hesitated, "Is that you?"  
  
Sam nodded, tears running down face, unable to speak. Without another word, Pippin charged into the room and caught Sam into a mighty bear hug. Sam joyfully hugged him back, feeling as if he would never let go. 


	17. Together Again

Chapter 17 Together Again  
  
Frodo was sitting at the head table feeling more relaxed and happy than he had in a long time. The wedding of Aragorn and Arwen had been a marvelous affair and all of Minas Tirith had turned out to watch and celebrate. Frodo was delighted to see the elves from Rivendell and Lothlorien, although he was disappointed Bilbo had not come. He had spoken with Elrond at length earlier in the day and felt better for it. He had also met briefly with the beautiful Galadriel when the elves first arrived. Frodo frowned slightly as he remembered their meeting.  
  
"Do not grieve for your lost companion, Frodo Baggins." Galadriel said as she gave Frodo her serenely mysterious smile. "He will always be with you." She then gently touched his brow and continued on to rejoin Lord Celeborn and the others. "What exactly did she mean by that?" he wondered yet again. He did miss his friend desperately, although the sharp point of his grief had been slightly dulled. He thought how much Sam would have been overwhelmed by this jubilant celebration. Frodo's thoughts then strayed to another party from long ago - Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party. It had been the start of all their adventures.  
  
Frodo smiled as he remembered how reluctant Sam had been to ask the beautiful Rosie Cotton for a dance. Sam had been so awed by her, that he never seemed to realize she only had eyes for a certain shy gardener. Frodo gave a small sigh. She would have to find someone else now.  
  
Frodo shook his head as if to dispel any further gloomy thoughts and turned his attention to the festivities going on around him. Gimli and Legolas were both trying to outdo each other as they described their exploits in battle to an amused Glorfindel. Gandalf had just returned with Merry from setting off an impressive display of fireworks for the entertainment of the city. Where had Pippin gotten to? he wondered. Frodo spotted him and laughed as he observed his young cousin surrounded by a group of charming young ladies. Trust Pippin to be the center of attention when it came to the girls! Just then, Frodo noticed a palace guard approaching Pippin. Pippin stepped away from the ladies with the guard, then obviously excited, hurried out of the ball room. "I wonder what that was about?" Frodo said to Merry who had just rejoined him.  
  
Merry watched as Pippin slipped though the main door. "I haven't a clue," he replied as he reached for some of the roast chicken. "Probably heard there was more food outside!" Frodo laughed. The two hobbits sat companionably side by side, eating and watching the party. Gandalf had just joined them, when the clear, chiming of a bell rang through the room. Everyone quieted down and looked for the source of the sound.  
  
Pippin stood by the main entrance as one of palace guards lowered the bell. The young hobbit stepped forward then climbed on a chair so as to be more visible. "Ladies and gentlemen," he cried in his loudest voice, "Honored guests! Your majesties, King Elessar and Queen Arwen! I would like to announce the long- overdue arrival of one more guest. He has traveled far and through great hardship to get here, but he couldn't bring himself to miss such an important occasion!"  
  
Frodo and Merry exchanged puzzled glances as they chuckled at their cousin's audacity. Who could he be talking about? There was a low buzz of conversation as crowd asked each other the same question. Aragorn looked down the table at Frodo, who simply shrugged. This was a mystery to all.  
  
Pippin continued. "I wish to announce the arrival of none other than our missing companion, one of most famous gardeners anywhere in Middle Earth and esteemed member of the renowned Fellowship of the Ring, our own Samwise Gamgee!" The room seemed frozen in time as the large door swung open on its silent hinges and a small, ragged figure stepped hesitantly into the room. Not a sound was heard as Samwise Gamgee made his way to Pippin's side. Sam couldn't believe the glittering crowd. He had no idea what Pippin meant to do when he told Sam to wait outside the door and now, all eyes were on him. However, he felt like he was in a dream. Sam scanned the room, desperately searching for the one face that really mattered. When his eyes finally locked with those of Frodo, it was almost as if a spark of electricity had passed between them.  
  
"Sam!?" choked Frodo. He couldn't move, he couldn't think. Was that haggard creature truly his faithful Samwise back from the dead? Could it really be him? Frodo had dreamt so many times of Sam's return that he couldn't make himself believe it was actually happening.  
  
"Frodo!" All the color had drained from Sam's thin face as he stared at Frodo across the room. It was really him! His master was alive! He could hardly breathe, his eyes wide. In the end, it all proved too much for the poor, exhausted hobbit and as the room began to spin around him, Sam slumped to the floor in a dead faint.  
  
That was all it took for the room to erupt into pandemonium. Cries of confusion and disbelief echoed through the room. As if freed from the spell holding him, Frodo scrambled across the table, scattering food and tableware in his wake, and charged through the crowd to the side of his beloved friend. He cradled Sam's head in his lap, "Sam!" Frodo cried over and over, tears streaming down his face, "Sam, you're alive!"  
  
Sam's eyes fluttered open, "Master Frodo? Is that you?" He stared up at the smiling face above him, then grabbed Frodo's arm tightly. "It really is you, isn't it? You really are alive!?" Tears were now freely running down his face as well. He struggled to a sitting position, and the two hobbits embraced each other as if their very lives depended on it.  
  
Aragorn and Gandalf forced their way through the excited crowd to Frodo's side. Aragorn knelt down and softly laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. Tears were in his eyes as he watched weeping hobbits before him. "I think we should take Sam someplace quieter, Frodo," he murmured, "There is too much excitement here." Frodo nodded, unable to speak and reluctantly let go of his friend. Aragorn gently lifted Sam into his arms and began to make his way from the room. Sam grabbed Frodo's hand again, refusing to lose contact for even a moment. Aragorn was forced to slow down so Frodo could keep up. All around them, the room was filled with excitement. The other members of the Fellowship were racing after Aragorn and the hobbits, none able to believe that Sam had returned. Gandalf kept shaking his head in disbelief. He had seen Sam disappear in the explosion of Mr. Doom and although it paralled his own unexpected return to the living, he couldn't belief Sam had managed to survive.  
  
Aragorn took Sam to a quiet room in the royal apartments. He lay Sam on a down covered bed and sent for soap and water and clean clothing. He then asked everyone, with the exception of Frodo and Gandalf to wait outside and closed the door.  
  
Sam had been so intent on Frodo that it was some time before he realized Gandalf was standing near his bed. He frowned, blinking rapidly as if to dispel some vision. "Gandalf?" he gasped uncertainly as he stared at the snowy white wizard. "Are. are you alive, too?"  
  
Gandalf threw back his head and gave a warm, throaty laugh, "Yes, my dear hobbit, like you, I have made a miraculous return from the dead! Although, how you managed, I can not imagine. I am sure you will fill us all in on your journey in due course, but now is the time for rest!"  
  
Sam just shook his head in disbelief. "This is more than a poor hobbit can handle!" he sighed. "First Mr. Frodo and now Master Gandalf!" He then turned to Aragorn who had been removing Sam's filthy, tattered garments. He suddenly noticed the golden crown adorning the king's head. "And Strider! Are. are you the king!?" This was almost the most surprising thing of all!  
  
Aragorn smiled gently at Sam's amazement. "Yes, Master Gamgee, I am indeed the new king of Gondor and Lady Arwen is my queen. I hope perhaps you think a little more highly of me now than when we first met!" Aragorn's tone was light, but his heart sank as he saw the injuries and wounds that had been inflicted on the poor hobbit's person. He couldn't bear to think what Sam must have endured to reach them. He gently bathed Sam and tended his hurts, frowning whenever Sam flinched or gasped in sudden pain. Frodo and Gandalf looked on in dismay. Frodo continued to hold onto Sam's hand, refusing to let go unless absolutely necessary.  
  
When Aragorn had finished, Sam was pale and covered with a cold sweat, but it felt so good to be clean again and in fresh attire. Sam lay back on the pillows and gazed at Frodo's healthy appearance. So different from the last time he had seen him on the slopes of Mt. Doom. "All this time, I kept hopin' you'd still be alive, Mr. Frodo" he murmured softly. "It was the only thing that kept me goin'."  
  
Frodo smiled, tears running down his face. He gently squeezed Sam's hand. "I knew Gandalf said you were dead, that he had seen you disappear into the eruption of Mt. Doom, but deep in my heart, I simply could not believe it. I had dream after dream of you coming home. Sometimes I would stand on the battlements of the city just watching for you. I know the others thought I was crazy, but I simply could not lose you. You had to come back!"  
  
Sam shifted his gaze to the ceiling. He was silent for a moment as dark memories of his journey flashed through his mind. "It was a hard journey, and that's the truth of it," he said finally. "Many's the time I thought o' just lyin' down and givin' up, but I kept thinking about you and what if you were still alive? I had to find out. If you weren't alive, well, then at least I could die among friends and not them vile orcs or Southrons. Someday, Mr. Frodo, I'll tell you all of it."  
  
"Now," interrupted Aragorn as he brought forth a steaming mug, "Sam needs some nourishment and some rest." He handed the mug to Sam. "I want you to drink all of this, Sam" he commanded, "In addition to providing you with nourishment, it is also contains healing herbs that will aid in your recovery." On the table next to Sam's bed, Aragorn place a bowl of hot water and steeping athelas leaves, knowing that their fumes would also help heal the ailing hobbit. Sam took the mug without protest and finished it off quickly. He had been parched with thirst and the brew seemed to be the most delicious beverage he had ever tasted. He felt very drowsy and for the first time in longer than he could remember, safe and content. Sam took one more lingering look at his beloved master, squeezed his hand, and quietly slipped into a peaceful sleep.  
  
Frodo gazed down at his sleeping friend, the tears still glistening on his cheeks. "Sleep well, Sam," he murmured, "I'll watch over you like you did for me so many times in Mordor. You're safe now." He gently tucked the covers more securely around Sam's sleeping form, and sat back in his chair, determined to stay by Sam's side as long as needed.  
  
Aragorn stood quietly in the doorway watching the two Hobbits. He had seriously considered putting Sam into a healing sleep such as he had used on Frodo after his rescue from Mordor, but quickly decided that what Sam needed more than anything was to simply be with his friends. Frodo's presence alone would probably affect a cure more efficiently than any medicine. Arwen appeared silently beside Aragorn and gazed upon the scene before them. "How is he?" she asked quietly.  
  
Aragorn turned and smiled gently at his beautiful wife. "Well, if he were anyone other than a Hobbit, I would say we should be planning for his funeral!" He shook his head in bemusement, "But I have seen Merry and Frodo both survive attacks by Ringwraiths, poor Pippin nearly flattened by a troll and Frodo rescued from the fiery slopes of Mt. Doom. All of them survived. Now, poor Sam has returned to us. It is apparent he has been badly treated. The scars and injuries certainly attest to that. Physically, he is quite ill and weak, but I believe he will recover in time. Now that he is back among his friends, I think we will see rapid improvement!"  
  
Arwen laughed quietly. "Yes," she said staring at Sam's peaceful countenance, "I think you are right. It seems to me that Sam and Frodo both look better already!" 


	18. Epilogue

Author's Note: Well guys, this is it, the final chapter. After reading Ch 17 reviews, I realized I really could have made that the ending, but as I had already started this one and I always like to know "what happened then.?" I decided to go ahead and post this one too, making it sort of an epilogue. I'm actually feeling very sad knowing this is the last chapter!  
  
I really want to thank all my faithful readers and reviewers. You guys have been truly wonderful and supportive. Rather makes me want to write another story (problem is, I only like writing about Sam)! Ah well. Again, my heartfelt thanks to you all.  
  
Ellen  
  
Chapter 18 Epilogue  
  
Sam slept deeply for the next four days, waking only to take nourishment. Frodo never left his side with Pippin and Merry often staying with him. None of them could get over that fact that Sam had returned alive. Sam woke abruptly, early the morning of the fifth day, caught in the grip of a nightmare. He looked around in alarm, searching for Frodo and gave a deep sigh of relief as he spied his dear master sleeping in the chair beside him. Sam studied Frodo's face with deep satisfaction and affection. He couldn't help but think of the weak, haggard Frodo he had last seen on the burning slopes of Mt. Doom. Frodo was still somewhat pale and thin, but obviously healthy. That was all Sam could hope for. He wondered what ill effects the Ring might have left on poor Frodo, but for the moment, Sam was simply content to believe that all was well with his friend.  
  
He slowly pushed himself up on his elbow. He still felt tired and weak, but much better than he had when he arrived. His aches and pains had also diminished and now he realized how hungry he was. He looked around hopefully, thinking there might be some food somewhere, but with disappointment, slowly eased himself back down again. "Sam?" Sam turned suddenly to see Frodo awake and grinning at him. "Looking for something?"  
  
"Mr. Frodo!" exclaimed Sam slightly embarrassed, "I didn't mean to wake you! I was just lookin' around for something to eat."  
  
Frodo laughed, a sound that filled Sam with delight. It had been so long since he had heard Frodo truly laugh. "Sam, you amaze me! You return from the dead and all you want to do is eat! You do Hobbiton proud!" He held Sam's hand in his own and continued to grin affectionately at his friend. At that moment, the door quietly opened and Merry and Pippin looked in hesitantly. Seeing that Sam was awake, the two cousins whooped with delight and charged into the room.  
  
"Samwise Gamgee!" crowed Merry, "I can't believe it! Everyone thought you were dead! Old Gandalf, (who we also thought dead, but he came back!), swore he saw you fall into the fires of Mt. Doom! No one could possibly survive that!"  
  
"That's true!" agreed Pippin, "But I don't think Frodo ever truly believed you were dead! He'd wait up on the parapets watching for you for hours at a time! We kept trying to tell him it was no use. Guess he showed us!"  
  
All the hobbits laughed and began trying to talk at the same time. They were all so happy to be back together, the room fairly pulsed with their joy. Sam couldn't help staring at Merry and Pippin and exclaiming over their unseemly growth spurt. He hadn't noticed this when he first met up with Pippin, but now it perplexed him. The cousins laughed again and proceeded to tell Sam the story of their time with the Ents and the downfall of Isengard. Sam wasn't quite sure how much to believe of this outlandish tale, but enjoyed it just the same.  
  
Frodo ordered food to be brought up to the room, and although Sam was cautioned against eating too much after his long period of deprivation, he was more than satisfied. The other three quickly disposed of the leftovers.  
  
Aragorn and Gandalf arrived shortly thereafter with Legolas and Gimli in tow. "Master Gamgee!" boomed Gimli as he approached the bed, "Never have I been more pleased to see a gardener in all my life! You hobbits are certainly difficult to kill off!" He laughed uproariously at his own joke while Legolas shook his head in mock dismay.  
  
"We are indeed delighted to see you safe and sound, Sam." The elf smiled warmly at Sam who blushed deeply. He had always been somewhat intimidated by the elegant Elf. "You were the talk of the party!"  
  
"That's right!" grinned Gimli, "After Pippin's grand announcement and your dramatic entrance, nobody cared about the King's wedding anymore!"  
  
They all laughed as Aragorn pushed them out of the room in order to tend to Sam. "We will come back later, Sam!" called Legolas as he and Gimli hurried into the hallway, narrowly avoiding the door Aragorn slammed in their faces.  
  
Sam continued to improve with every passing day, but was still unwilling to talk about his ordeal. Whenever he tried, the image of Damrod lying in the road, an arrow in his back, rose up before him. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and so did his best not to think on it.  
  
However, his dreams would not let him forget and most nights he awoke abruptly, bathed in a cold sweat and heart pounding. One morning after such a dream, he lay there in his bed, trembling. He knew the time had come and he reluctantly forced himself remember all that had happened to him after Mr. Doom. Once released, the memories of his nightmarish journey welled up like a volcano erupting. Every moment of anger and fear and grief he had so determinedly buried burst forth in a great soul- wrenching cry. Sam buried his face in his pillow, his body convulsed with wracking sobs as he thought of brave Damrod, dead because of him. He thought of Frodo and what he had lost on the Quest; of Boromir's death; his own months of suffering and torment.  
  
Finally, when all his energy had been spent and his pillow soaked with tears, he wearily rolled to his side and gasped. There, sitting beside his bed, regarding him gravely, was the Lady Galadriel. "M.My Lady!" he stammered in embarrassment, trying to wipe his eyes and make himself presentable. He was horrified to have the beautiful Lady of Lothlorien see him like this.  
  
Galadriel smiled, her eyes soft with pity and sympathy. "Do not feel ashamed, Samwise Gamgee. You have endured much pain and grief, perhaps more than any of the Fellowship. If that pain is not released, it will destroy you from within."  
  
Sam stared at her, chewing his lip. "No one suffered more than Mr. Frodo." He mumbled as if somehow that made his own suffering seem less important.  
  
Galadriel tilted her head as she quietly studied Sam's tear- streaked face. "Yes, Frodo did suffer and will continue to do so. The power of the Ring does not leave its victim's unscathed. But, that does not alter what you have borne. As well as the physical pains, you had to bear the agony of watching your dearest friend suffer as the Ring destroyed him more and more, knowing there was nothing you could do. And yet, you never lost hope. You remained at his side, carried him to the top of Mt. Doom on your own back, and even carried the Ring yourself for a short while. Without you, the Quest must certainly have failed."  
  
Sam looked down, his hands absently twisting the bedclothes into a knot. "I.I can't help thinkin' about Damrod," he said in a low voice. "He died because of me. If he hadn't rescued me from the Haradrim, he'd still be alive today."  
  
Galadriel placed her hand under Sam's chin and gently tilted his head until reluctantly, his eyes met hers. "We all had our parts to play in this." She replied softly, but firmly. "Some were meant to fall, others to continue on. Your part is not yet finished, Samwise Gamgee. There is much work yet for you to do in your life. Damrod played his as it was written." She smiled again as she gracefully rose to her feet. "I think the time has come for you to tell the others of your journey. It may alleviate much of your own pain. Also, Lord Faramir would wish to know of his friend." As she turned to leave, she spied Sam's pack lying open on the floor, her gifts still within. She knelt down and picked up the box she had given Sam so long ago in Lothlorien. She nodded slowly, her serene face thoughtful. "Yes, Sam, there is still much work for you to do."  
  
That evening, Sam told Frodo of his tortuous journey home. He felt it would be easier to tell just Frodo at first and then later, the others. Frodo listened intently, tears in his eyes. It pained him more than he could say to hear how much Sam had suffered. But Sam found what the Lady had said was true. He did feel better after telling Frodo and later, it was easier when he told Gandalf and the others.  
  
"I still feel terrible about Mister Damrod," he sighed as he finished his tale for the second time. "He risked everything to save me. I guess I should tell Captain Faramir what happened to him."  
  
Aragorn reached over and gripped Sam's arm. "Damrod was a soldier, Sam. He knew the risks, but he must have felt saving your life was more important. He will be honored." Sam's smile was sad, but grateful.  
  
A moment later there were loud voices heard outside Sam's room. All heads turned as a loud, demanding knock sounded against the door. Legolas rose to his feet and warily opened the door. In came Lord Faramir, a broad grin on his face. "Greetings, Sam!" he said, walking over towards Sam. "I am sorry I have not had the opportunity to visit you before this, but I had some business to attend to." Some muffled laughter could be heard outside the door. Faramir continued, unperturbed. "I am pleased to see you looking considerably better than when you first arrived, and so I bring you a visitor!"  
  
Sam turned to the door and with a cry of joy leaped to his feet. A pale, but very much alive, Damrod strolled into the room, followed by another Ranger. "Damrod!"  
  
"Hullo, Sam!" grinned Damrod as he knelt in front of the flabbergasted Hobbit. "I hoped you had made it to Minas Tirith safe and sound after I was forced to, uh, take my leave of you! It appears as if you have been well taken care of!"  
  
"What happened!?" asked Sam in disbelief, "How did you escape the Orcs?"  
  
"Well," Damrod began, rising to his feet, "I can thank Mablung here for that! After you and I had made our escape, Mablung decided that I might be in need of help on the journey back, what with all the foul creatures still free in Lebbenin, so he trailed us. He came upon me on the road just in the nick of time and was able to kill most of the Uruks. The rest of the Orcs took off after their leaders were dead. We took refuge in some nearby caves until I was strong enough to make the journey to Minas Tirith."  
  
Mablung continued the story. "Unfortunately, while I was dispatching Orcs with my bow, a couple of others made off with my horse. Otherwise, we would have been here much sooner!"  
  
"I could not help but wonder what had happened to you," Damrod said, looking down at Sam, "I feared the Orcs had managed to catch you and I wanted Mablung to go look for you."  
  
"I kept telling him it was useless!" sighed Mablung, "If the Orcs had gotten you, by the time I would have found you, it would have been too late. I knew you were on Damrod's horse and I hoped he would take you to safety. Fortunately, he did!"  
  
Everyone began talking at once. Sam continued to shake his head in disbelief, then he looked at all the merry faces around him. This is why he came back, he thought to himself. This is what had kept him going during all those long days of pain and misery. Here, there was joy and love and strength. Here, people cared about each other. He turned suddenly as he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned and found Frodo looking at him in concern.  
  
"Are you alright, Sam?"  
  
Sam thought for a moment and realized he felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his heart. For the first time, he truly believed he would be alright. "Yes." he said, smiling slowly, "I am alright. And Mr. Frodo?" He turned to his friend, "I'm thinkin' its time to go home to the Shire."  
  
Frodo gave Sam a warm smile, placed his arm around his companion's shoulders and nodded. "Me too, Sam. Me too."  
  
The End 


End file.
